


War Wounds

by CBFirestarter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Barn Owner Castiel, Butt Plugs, Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Cock Rings, Depressed Dean Winchester, Doctor Sam Winchester, Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Face-Fucking, Gags, Happy Ending, Horse Trainer Castiel, Horses, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Inspection, M/M, Military Veteran Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Punishment, Recovery, Rope Bondage, Safewords, Stable Hand Dean Winchester, Sub Dean Winchester, Suspension, Talk of Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Vibrators, horse rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2020-11-08 17:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 65,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CBFirestarter/pseuds/CBFirestarter
Summary: Surviving the war had been one of the hardest things Dean had ever done. Coming home from the war is proving to be even harder. Lost and adrift, he feels like he's drowning. When he happens upon a horse farm looking for help it might just be the lifeline he's been looking for.When Cas meets the new farm hand he sees the same injured look in those eyes he's seen time and again in the horses he's rescued. Can he break through to Dean the way he has with his horses? Teach him to trust, to surrender, to connect. Can he break down Dean's defenses without destroying his own? Maybe with a little hope and a little rope they can find a way through together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheArcaneRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArcaneRaven/gifts).

> Hello Readers!  
Okay so here it is chapter one of my next WIP. This story has been sitting heavy on my mind since the lovely Raven gave me the prompt for the FicFacers auction. I decided to do it the justice it deserved and made it a full length love story. There will be a lot of pain and heart ache along the way. Dean has a good amount of trauma to deal with. I don't know all the tags that will be involved yet but I can say it will be a healthy BDSM relationship. If your concerned about any future kinks please feel free to ask in the comments and I will answer as best I can. Also I fully admit that I have danced around the idea of writing a story involving horses since I have been in the saddle since I was two and a horse mom for the past 18 years (Artex is the best horse there is, just saying). This is the first plot bunny in the genre to stick however. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, I am going to try and stick to a two week posting schedule on Mondays. every chapter I post has to be written first so bear with me. If I can post early I will.  
Love,  
CB

_ “ _ _ We call them dumb animals, and so they are, for they cannot tell us how they feel, but they do not suffer less because they have no words.” - Anna Sewell _

The taste of copper fills his mouth, his body burning and lungs struggling for air. The weight on his chest is suffocating, pushing down harder with each breath he tries to take. He thrashes to break free, to escape the growing heat, pain scorching through his leg. He gasps with a lurch, nearly falling out his bed. Shaky hands cling to the headboard as he fights back the tremors.

_ A dream, it’s just a dream. _

The taste of blood slowly goes away, the weight on Dean's chest lifts with each breath. The pain in his leg drains away to a dull ache as he stares at the twisted quilt in his lap. He pries his hands from the bed frame, moving to sit up as the vertigo gives him a rush of nausea.

The sun isn’t up all the way yet but his room has a warm glow to it. He can just make out the boxes still sitting in the corner by the closet. He hasn’t unpacked yet, part of him still not feeling like it’s a permanent home for him, despite Sam’s insistence that he can stay as long as he needs. But how pathetic is it to be living in his brother's spare bedroom? 

He obviously isn’t gonna be getting any more sleep, so he drags himself out of bed, pulling on some sweats and tiptoeing down the stairs. It’s not graceful since he has a bit of a limp in his left leg. He manages to not wake his brother as he switches on the kitchen light, waiting for the bulb to flicker on, and lets his eyes adjust.

He still feels the twist in his gut and wonders if eating something might help him feel less like puking. He finds himself sitting at the kitchen table, bare feet cold on the linoleum with a bowl of cereal before him. He doesn’t even remember fixing it. Dean swirls his spoon in his cereal, watching it slowly turn to mush before his eyes. He’s already regretting getting out of bed. 

At the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs he quickly raises a soggy bite to his lips. He can feel his brother’s eyes on his back as he comes into the kitchen and makes his way to the coffee pot. Dean braces himself for the coming lecture. It’s as familiar to him as the lyrics in a Zeppelin song. His brother can only go so long before he’s unable to keep his mouth shut. Dean shovels another bite of bland cereal into his mouth and resists the urge to spit it back out.

“Morning,” Sam greets him, moving toward the coffee pot. He grunts in reply keeping his head down. “Have any plans today?”

Dean sighs drooping his spoon. “Same as yesterday,” he just stops himself from rolling his eyes.

“Dean, we gotta talk,” Sam announces, moving toward the table. May as well be stalking his prey.

“Do we have to do that right now?” Dean grumbles, pushing his bowl away from him and taking a sip of the coffee Sam set down for him.

“Yes, now, Dean. It can’t keep going like this.” Sam sighs, dropping heavily into the chair next to him. Dean seriously considers bolting back to his room, but Sam will only follow him.

“Fine. Say whatever it is you gotta say and then leave me the hell alone,” he snaps, the words coming out harsher than he wants them to. Which seems to be the norm lately.

“I’m worried about you. I know it’s been hard adjusting since you got back, and I wanted to give you time, but it’s only getting worse.”

“There’s no timeline on this shit, alright?” Dean scowls. It's been six months since he’s gotten home from his last tour in Afghanistan. Honorable discharge when injured in the line of duty is never how he intended to end his military career. But how often do things ever turn out how he expects them to? 

“I get that you’re still trying to figure things out. I’m just worried because you almost never leave the house, you're not sleeping, you hardly eat—”

“I’m eating,” he protests gesturing to the bowl of soggy, uneaten cereal and realizing he isn’t helping his case any.

“You're not…it’s like you're not you anymore. You don’t wanna work on your car, or watch the game with me, or find a job, or go out and see your friends.” Sam’s voice rises, and Dean can feel the tension in the room drawn tight like a bow string.

Dean can’t take another second of this, of Sam listing all the ways he’s a total failure. He pushes back from the table and Sam moves, blocking him from leaving. “Out of the way, Sammy. I’m done talking about this.”

“Done? We haven’t even started. Look, I know how much you hate to talk about this stuff, okay, and get it.But I need you to know I am here for you. You're not alone and I just want to help you.” Sam’s voice shifts at the end, making Dean look up. It’s a mistake—those hazel eyes can see right through him. Hiding things from Sam is always impossible for long. His brother can read him like a book.

“I’m working on it, okay Sam? Just gimme a little more time.” It feels like an empty promise. Not because he doesn’t want things to get better, but just because he has no idea how to make that happen. Or if it's even possible.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t push you. I just get worried about you.” 

Pity spread plainly across Sam’s face makes Dean sick with shame. He forces a fake smile on his face and claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m fine, alright? Plus, I’m seeing about a job today.”

“Really?” Sam’s eyes practically light up. “What is it? Where?”

Dean scrambles since he has no actual idea about any kind of job. “I’ll tell you tonight once I know more, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe we can watch a movie or something. I can bring home steaks?” Sam smiles at him, genuinely hopeful. 

The smile he gives back is a little closer to the real thing. “Sounds good. Now, aren’t you gonna be late?”

Sam darts a glance at the clock on the wall. “Shit, you're right. Okay, see ya tonight.” Sam grabs his coffee and hustles out the door. Sam is in his residency at the hospital and Dean still can’t believe his brother is actually a doctor now.

The house goes a whole new kind of quiet once Sam is gone. The kind of quiet that makes Dean’s skin itch.

_ Maybe today will be better. _

_ Sure it will, keep telling yourself that. _

He frowns at himself but heads upstairs to change. His knee protests at climbing the stairs, but he makes it all the same. He digs through one of his boxes of clothes till he finds a clean pair of faded jeans and crumpled t-shirt that he figures will do. He avoids the mirror, scratching at the short beard he’s grown the past few weeks.

By the time he makes it outside the sun is breaking over the treetops. It makes Dean feel exhausted just at the sight of the bright blue sky. Like the day is far too awake for his liking. He realizes then that he doesn’t have a ride. The Impala hasn’t been road worthy in…well, in a long time.

_ Could just go back inside, I tried, right? _

_ Walking to the porch and back inside is not trying. _

He scolds himself, looking out the dirt drive toward the road. It’s three miles into town where he might be able to see about some kind of work. His old friend Jo has a bar in town, maybe he can barback or something. With a goal in mind, he starts the trek down the road. The muscles in his leg begin to stretch and the pain lets up a little as he continues following the road. It’s a quiet morning with few cars passing by. He’s glad for it, trying to come up with something to say to Jo when he gets to town.

_ Hey, remember me? Long time no see. _

_ Real original, jackass. _

He comes up on a line of white fencing and realizes he almost forgot there was a horse farm down here. It makes him smile a little, thinking of his grandpa Henry and his farm. There were no horses, but he had a few crops and some sheep.

He reaches the end of the drive and holds a hand up as he squints out across the pasture. Two horses stand at the far end, grazing. He leans against the fence a moment, watching them. Tails swishing at the flies, they move slowly together across the field. He thinks they look pretty peaceful. Must be a simple life. He gets caught up in watching them and jumps when he hears a loud whack sound beside him.

“Hello there.” A woman with jet black hair and olive skin smiles over at him as she hammers something below the farm sign, _ Stowaway Farm _, in large black iron script.

“Uh hi,” he gives a little wave, figuring he should really keep going into town.

“You know anything about horses?” she asks him, flattening out her piece of paper before hammering in a nail at the bottom.

“Not really, no.” He shrugs a little and turns to watch as one of the horses bolts a few strides across the field before shaking its head and going back to the grass.

“Well, if you know anyone interested in a farm hand position…” The woman taps the paper, giving him a nod and heading back toward the drive. He glances over at the sheet.

** _Help Wanted: Farm Hand_ **

** _Stall cleaning, Horse feedings, and Property Maintenance_ **

** _Inquire with Barn Manager_ **

“Hey, uh…” He calls out, before realizes he doesn’t know her name.

“It's Ellie,” she replies, turning around and raising her brow.

“Ellie, I’m Dean. I’m actually looking for a job. I don’t know horses but I helped my grandpa out with his farm as a kid. I’m pretty handy at fixing things.” He thinks this might be just what he needs, and he won’t even need a working car or a college degree.

“It’s pretty hard work—you sure you're up for it?” Ellie looks at him skeptically. He frowns, thinking he’s a little thinner than he used to be, lost some of his muscle tone the last few months. Still, how hard can it be?

“I’m up for it, if you give me a chance.” It’s really just the thing to get Sam off his back.

Ellie looks him up and down one more time, arms crossed, and he feels a bit like a horse at auction the way she’s looking at him. “Alright, why don’t you come with me. I can introduce you to the barn owner, and if he’s okay with it we can give you a trial run this week.” She strides off down the long dirt drive and he moves after her, trying his best to hide the small limp. Dean follows her toward a big barn on the back of the property.

“We have these two front pastures that we rotate the horses on during the good weather. Off to the left there are what we call the hillside paddocks for individual turnout, and off to the right we have a medicine paddock in case we have an injured horse.” Ellie gestures toward the different fencing as Dean nods, wondering how much of dealing with the actual horses he would have to do.

“So, you guys race horses here?” he asks, knowing next to nothing about horses other than what he learned from watching _ Mr. Ed _ in the mornings before school.

Ellie rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t get me started on horse racing. That’s not what we do here. We run a riding program, offering lessons in multiple disciplines, as well as offer horse training, therapeutic riding program, and we take in the occasional foster or rescue horse.”

Dean just nods, thinking how out of his depth he is. “Big, huh?” He looks up at the large barn in front of him.

“Yes, we have thirty-five stalls and an indoor riding arena. There’s also an outdoor arena in the back and round pen for training.” He only really understands half of what she's saying, but nodding and smiling seems to be working for him so he goes with that. He follows her through the barn, down a long aisle coming out toward the back, and he blinks at the sudden sunlight. Eyes adjusting, he sees a man standing down a ways in the middle of a circular metal pen… _ Huh, round pen _. There is a large brown horse moving around him, tail swishing and head bobbing.

“Castiel!” Ellie calls with a wave. Dean watches as the man looks up at them, a little tilt to his head nodding them over. As they get closer Dean gets a better look at the guy. Dark brown hair and stubbled jaw, sat atop a strong physique. Broad shoulders fill out a green cotton button-up, and thick thighs stretch a pair of worn-looking wrangler jeans. Dean had been a soldier and was not unaccustomed to seeing fit, attractive people—something he noticed even more so, seeing as he swings both ways. Still, even he stops a moment to appreciate the man before him.

The horse continues moving around the pen, kicking up dust that Dean squints at. “Whoa, Sugar,” Castiel calls out to the horse, dropping the stick he was holding and raising one hand. The horse slows, turning to face him, nostrils flared and eyes focused. “Ellie, you made a friend?” Castiel asks, partially over his shoulder keeping his eyes on the horse. Dean feels like he’s watching some kind of staring contest.

“He might be yours—he’s looking for a job.” Ellie smiles and winks at him.

“Oh, well that's convenient.” Castiel glances over at Dean quick, eyes scanning him up and down. Dean freezes under the examination, wishing he’d worn a nicer shirt then remembers he is basically applying to shovel shit.

“Give me just a second.” Castiel bends down slowly, grabbing a pile of ropes off the ground and approaches the horse. “Good girl, Sugar,” Castiel praises lightly as he wraps the ropes around the horse's face.Dean realizes belatedly it wasn’t just rope, but a halter—at least he thinks that’s the name for it. The man leads the horse over toward them and rests one foot up on the bottom rung of the pen. “Castiel Novak.” The man sticks out his hand through the bars and Dean jumps to grab it, giving it a firm shake.

“Dean Winchester,” he tries for a smile, hoping it doesn’t come off false.

“Hmm, any relation to a Sam Winchester?”

“That’s my brother. You know him?”

“He treated me at the hospital once. He was very skilled, even though I believe he was just an intern at the time.”

Dean nods, unsurprised. It’s a pretty small town and there’s only one hospital in the area.

“Well, I’ll leave you two. I need to get the water troughs done. If he passes inspection you just send him back to me.” Ellie tips a nonexistent hat towards them before striding off. 

Dean fidgets a moment, till he feels cool blue eyes focusing on him and automatically goes still. Hands behind his back, he widens his stance and lifts his chin. He can’t help the response so ingrained in him from years in the army. He swallows hard as the man leads the horse out of a gate in the pen and walks up to him.

It's silent a moment, and Dean isn’t sure what to do. Does the guy think he’s a weirdo for standing at attention like this? Should he move? Say something? 

“At ease.” Castiel’s rough voice breaks through his racing thoughts and he feels his shoulders relax. He blinks at the man. Blue eyes are still searching him, like they are trying to puzzle him out. He almost wants to laugh at the thought—like there is that much going on up there to begin with. Last thing Dean is, is a man of mystery. “Come,” is all he says before turning and walking toward the back of the barn.

Dean takes a deep breath and moves to follow him. Orders he can handle. The man leads the horse to an area with rubber mats and rings along the wall. Dean watches the hands move almost too fast to track as they tie the horse to the wall and he gives a few soft pats the horse's neck.

“I’m not sure if this job is going to interest you.” Castiel grabs a hose attached to the wall and begins to unreel it, seeming to test the water in his hand. “It’s a lot of manual labor and we can’t afford to pay much above minimum wage.”

Dean nods, watching as Castiel begins to spray the horse's lower legs and moves the stream of water slowly up to its chest. “I don’t mind, I can handle hard work.” He wishes it was something that paid better, but honestly he knows anything like that would likely have him in an office and he just isn’t qualified for that kind of job.

“What did you do for work before now?” Castiel moves his hand over the horse's muscles as he rinses away the sweat.

“I was in the military.” He digs his thumbnail into the palm of his hand, taking a few steadying breaths. “Been out for a few months. Just figuring out my next step.”

_ If by “figuring out” you mean wallowing on the couch and being a useless drain on your brother. _

The man eventually shuts off the water, reeling up the hose and running a hand over the horse’s chest.

“Well, why don’t we start with a trial run this week, and if Ellie is happy with your work and you still want to continue on, we can make it official?” The man wipes his hands on his jeans and unhooks the rope to the horses halter.

“Thanks, I uh, really appreciate you giving me a chance.” He can only figure that this guy can’t see how damaged he is. Just making eye contact feels like a struggle right now. At least his mouth seems to be saying all the right things.

Castiel looks up at him again, a tilt to his head while he runs a tongue out over his lips. Dean’s eyes track the movement and he again feels the urge to freeze under that stare. The man moves up to him right up into his space, and he feels his heart quicken. Instinct is telling him to hit the guy and run. He swallows the impulse down, though, meeting the man’s gaze. The silence hangs heavy between them and it takes all his willpower not to back down under a stare like that.

“Let’s get started then,” is all Castiel says before turning and walking to the barn. 

Dean lets out a long breath and hurries to follow the guy, still trying to figure out what the hell that look had been. 

Castiel turns out the horse and goes in search of Ellie. They find her in a back paddock scrubbing out a water trough.

“So, gonna give handsome here a chance huh, Cas?” The woman grins at them as she rights the large tub and grabs a hose to start refiling it.

“Figure you can whip him into shape.” Castiel smirks a little and Dean feels heat creep up his neck.

“I like a challenge. Come on, you can help me finish the water and then we have to muck stalls.” Ellie stands and gestures toward the next paddock. Castiel nods and gives Dean one last look before leaving them to it.

Dean spends the morning following her around and learning the property. They clean out and refill outside water troughs and Ellie shows him how to muck out stalls, which is just the kind of crap work he was expecting. They finish off the afternoon working on replacing some spark plugs in the tractor. By the end of it he’s exhausted and filthy, but he feels surprisingly good.

“Alright, you can head out for the day. I’ll bring the horses in for dinner.” Ellie gives him a pat on the shoulder. “You did good for your first day. Come back by seven tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He nods, stretching and hearing his back crack.

“Hot shower should help—you're gonna be sore;” She chuckles.

“Think that’s exactly what I’ll do.” He smiles, thinking about the warm water on his stiff muscles. He heads out for the walk home, a dull ache still in his knee. He turns back to look over the farm and sees a figure standing on the front porch of the house. Arms crossed, leaning against the porch beam, he can feel that blue eyed stare even from here. He throws up a hand in a wave, and watches as Cas returns it.

He stands in the road a second longer, and feels this strange draw to turn around and go talk to the man. He can’t seem to figure out why he just wants to be near him. He shakes off the feeling and puts his boots to the ground, heading for home. Tomorrow, he thinks, is going to a very long day.

Cas leans against the banister, watching Dean as he disappears behind the treeline. He hasn’t been able to get the man off his mind since that morning. He stares up at the road, sun getting low behind the trees now. He can hear the peeper frogs starting to make noise in the brook behind his house.

“I know that look,” Ellie says, startling him from his thoughts.

“What look is that?”

“You found yourself a new project, you're just trying to figure out what to do about it.” Ellie leans against the pole opposite him and crosses her arms. Few people can read him the way that Ellie does, and he’s not sure if it’s just the time spent together or if it’s just her. He thinks it’s her.

“He’s a person, not a project.” He sighs, staring out again up the dirt drive.

“Just saying I know that look.” He feels her stare on him. “It’s a bad idea.”

“Hmmf,” he grunts noncommittally.

“He knows nothing about horses.”

“He can learn.”

“It’s a physical job, and I know you saw that limp.”

“He’ll get stronger.”

“It pays next to nothing, it won’t be enough money for him to stay.”

“That’s his choice, he knows how much it pays.”

Ellie just huffs, shaking her head. “Well, he takes direction well at least. Just remember you can’t fix everyone.”

“Not going to fix him…but if I can help him…” He leaves the rest unsaid.

“Come on, time to bring them in. I can already see Dakota pacing by the gate.”

Cas nods and follows her down the hill toward the paddocks. It’s a more of a planned dance bringing them in then most people would realize, needing to try and follow the pecking order to avoid any dinner time drama. Cas looks over each horse as he brings them in, checking for any fresh cuts or anyone walking funny. Fly masks get hung up with halters, and soon the barn is filled with the sounds of horses munching down their hay. He loves when the barn is full, all the snuffles and shifting and munching sounds are soothing to him. He and Ellie grab grain buckets and make their way down the aisle.

There are a few impatient whinnys during the process, but eventually everyone is fed and he begins his last walk through to make sure all the doors are locked, every bucket has water. There’s a loud banging sound part way down the aisle and he peers in at Louie, a sorrel gelding who's kicking the side wall of the stall as he inhales his dinner.

“Cut the crap, Lou, I mean it,” he grumbles. The horse pins its ears at him, though he does stop kicking. Castiel sighs, knowing as soon as he steps away the kicking will resume. It’s why he lines a few stalls with rubber mats for horses like Lou.

He goes over the paperwork one more time for the new horse coming in tomorrow. He’s concerned with what the owners told him about the gelding. He thinks there might be a lot of baggage to unpack and he hopes the owners are patient enough to let Castiel have the time he needs to figure the horse out. The way they talked about the horse sounded like they’d already written him off, and Castiel was the last chance before he was shipped off to auction.

He thinks back to Dean again. The man had a haunted look, like he wasn’t completely there. He smiled and said all the right things when Castiel had talked to him. Still, some it felt like a show, like the real person was off somewhere else very far away. He doesn’t know why, of course, though he figures it has something to do with his limp and history in the military.

He wonders if he might be able to convince Dean to help him work with some of the horses. It might help the man with whatever it is that seems to be bothering him. Castiel has seen a lot of lost souls find their way through a connection to an animal.

“You good, boss?” Ellie calls, peeking into the office.

“Yeah, just getting ready for our new arrival tomorrow. Can you put him in the lower paddock so he can see the other horses, but doesn’t share a fence line? Oh, and make sure the gate has a double lock on it? And that he has bell boots on, just in case he starts running around.”

“Already planned for that, control freak.” Ellie winks at him.

He chuckles, thinking if she only really knew. Aside from his public life of training horses and running the barn, Castiel has another extracurricular activity, one that he hasn’t indulged in for a long time. He’d found that being a Dom had come as naturally to him as working with horses. Didn’t hurt that he knew his way around a few knots either. For just a moment he envisions Dean, tied up in those knots, bound and trusting and open. He shakes his head, killing that line of thought immediately. “Thanks Ellie, I know you have it covered. Have a good night.”

“I’m heading down to the Lafitte’s if you wanna come get a drink?”

“No, I think I’ll stay in tonight. Have fun.” He waves to her as she heads off, closing up the office and turning off the lights. 

He goes to the front of the barn and plops himself down on the swinging love-seat. It’s one of his favorite spots, close enough to hear the horses, and he can look out on the pastures. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make this place work. The barn had changed hands so many times before he finally bought it. Ellie had weathered the storm of several owners and he was so grateful for it. No one was better suited to manage the place and let him do what he loved most, which was training horses.

Cas leans back, closing his eyes and listening to the comforting sounds of the evening settling in, and wonders how his new green-eyed mystery man is doing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends!  
Chapter two coming at you, Thanks so much for reading along with me I missed you guys.  
-CB

_ “If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans. You’ve nothing to worry about there. _ _ ” - James Harriot  _   
  


He can’t do it.

It’s a terrible idea.

What had he been thinking?

Dean sits on the edge of his bed, face in his hands,sucking in slow deep breaths through his fingers. It’s not working—his heart is pounding like he just ran a few miles, and all he did was put on his work boots. He swallows even though it feels like his throat is swelling up. He’s gonna fail, they’re gonna see he’s just a big faker and he can’t do it, and if he can’t do that job then he can’t do anything and—

“Dean?” Sam’s voice breaks into his racing thoughts. “I’ll meet you at the car. Hurry up or you’re walking!” Sam laughs, his footsteps thundering down the stairs.

Dean jolts up off the bed, twirling in a circle, trying to decide if he should stay or go. Sam had been so elated the night before when Dean told him about the job. Going on and on about how being outside would be good for him, something about the vitamin D and endorphins. God, all he wants to do is crawl back into his bed and never come out.

He glances out the window to the front yard where he sees Sam’s charger running and hears the honk of the horn. He closes his eyes, taking a few more slow breaths. He needs to do this, if not for himself at least for Sam. He has to try.

He shoves down the fear churning his stomach and goes down to meet his brother. Luckily Sam doesn’t say a word when he gets in, which is good, since Dean’s not sure his voice would even work right now. They pull up to the front of the property and Dean insists he lets him out there. He reaches for the car handle when he feels a tug on his wrist.

Hazel eyes study him, fingers a firm and steadying grip. It feels a bit like being tethered so he doesn’t just float away. “It’s going to be okay Dean, even if it’s not okay.” Something in Sam’s face reminds Dean so much of his mom. Blinding, heartfelt faith. Sam believes in Dean, plain and simple. If only Dean deserves half of that trust. The words meant to comfort him only leave him with a rock in his gut. Still, he gives Sam’s arm a squeeze. He knows Sam is trying, he knows he just cares, and he knows that Sam doesn’t know how to help him. Thing is, Dean’s pretty sure he can’t be helped. Best he can hope for is finding a way to fake it for his brother.

He doesn’t say a word, still not trusting his voice and just nods, slipping out of the car and heading down toward the barn.

Boots crunch against the gravel and he focuses on the loud sound of it, trying to let it drown out the static growing in his head. He jolts as a bang echoes out across hills, knees buckling and hands going up over his head. He’s frozen as he hears two more loud bangs and muffled words of raised voices. He puts his hands to the dirt drive, sucking in a few deep breaths through his constricted throat. Vision blurs a moment and he shakes his head.

“You need to calm down or he won’t calm down,” he hears a rumbling voice catch his ear.

“He’s a terror, I tell you!” a woman shouts, high and shrill. Dean blinks raising his head and looking to the source of the commotion.

There’s a large shining silver horse trailer parked out front of the barn, rattling and shaking with the occasional loud bang. Dean’s body flinches with each impact as if it reverberates through him. He manages to pull his shaking legs back up under himself, dusting off his knees and getting the gravel off his palms.

“Why don’t you wait in the cab of the truck, let Ellie and I get him off the trailer?” Castiel is standing by the horse trailer, talking to a redhead with her hair back in a tight bun. Dean watches the woman spin and head toward her truck, slamming the door and making the trailer rattle again.

Suddenly blue eyes are on him, fixing him where he stands, Dean’s hand braced on the fence-line, sweat dripping down his brow. Dean feels it cooling against his skin and it makes him shiver in the cool spring morning.

“Dean, come stand right here for me,” Castiel calls in his deep firm voice, finger pointed toward the back of the trailer. Dean feels the vice on his chest ease and his legs are moving almost without his volition. He makes it up to the trailer and Cas, and stands waiting for his next task.

“Can you help me unload this horse? I need you to do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it.” Castiel’s voice is a whisper now, and he sees Ellie coming toward them. He feels the firm hand that moves to grip his upper arm, the touch settling something in him. Eyes are locked and he gives a firm nod. If he can just focus on doing what Castiel needs, maybe he can keep his head above water.

“Thank you, Dean. Now you see this latch? I want you to unlatch it when I tell you, but keep the door shut.” Dean nods and Castiel moves to the front of the trailer, opening a small side door before he slips inside.

Ellie moves to the other side of the trailer, looking like she’s standing at the ready too.

“‘Atta boy, you’re going to be just fine, aren’t you?” Castiel’s voice echoes in the trailer. “Unhook the ramp but don’t drop it yet.”

He can hear Castiel talking to the animal inside as he unhooks the latch, keeping a firm hand on the ramp. 

“All good out here,” Ellie calls.

“Alright, drop the ramp, and Dean, I want you to stand back out of the way.” Orders Dean can follow. They drop the ramp together while he steps back a few feet. Ellie moves up, unhooking some bar from across the back and Dean watches as a blur of gold and black stumbles out of the trailer. Eyes wild and nostrils flaring, the horse huffs as it back away from the trailer like it might swallow him back up. Castiel follows the horse, one hand on the lead, not pulling just following him, talking to him.

“You’re fine, whoa there, easy.” Castiel moves to the side, turning the horse and leading him in a circle, patting at his neck. 

The horse is beautiful—a dark gold coat with a jet black mane and tail. Thick, powerful muscles flex as the horse almost seems to float across the ground. Dean’s mesmerized by both of them, the man and horse in their dance of circling around each other. They slow more and more on each pass, the horse dropping its head though still snorting loudly, eyes darting all around.

“Dean?” He glances up at Castiel, ready for the next move. “Can you head to that paddock over there, and open the gate for me? Ellie, can you grab some hay?” 

They both move swiftly, and Dean makes sure to stay back as Castiel brings the snorting, stomping animal into the paddock. He watches as Castiel turns the horse loose and Ellie tosses in a few flakes of hay in for him. The horse trots the perimeter of the fence, calling out so loud Dean wants to cover his ears.

“Ellie, can you go talk to Abbadon and tell her we have it from here?” Ellie rolls her eyes at Cas but moves toward the truck to close up the trailer. He feels Castiel move beside him, watching the horse as he darts from corner to corner of his enclosure.

“He’s kinda crazy, huh?” Dean jumps back as the horse darts toward them, calling out again. A few of the other horses in their paddocks call back to him, echoing around the hills.

“He’s just scared, stressed out, and doesn’t know who’s in charge.” Castiel sighs, watching as the horse grabs a bite of hay before trotting off across the paddock again.

“Who’s in charge?” Dean repeats, squinting at Castiel, confused.

“Yes, once he knows he can trust me, and that I’m running the show here, he’ll calm down.” Castiel puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder then, giving it a small squeeze. It’s like his energy flows right through that hand into Dean, soothing something deep within him. He doesn’t want the touch to end, but he can’t exactly spend the whole day with Cas touching him.

_ He’s your boss, get a grip. _

He scolds himself as he takes a step back and smiles at Castiel, who turns assessing eyes to him. Dean wonders how much Cas saw earlier, of Dean hitting the damn dirt like he was under fire. He still feels a bit of tightness in his throat and is a little queasy, but he thinks the worst of it has passed now.

“Thank you for your help.” Castiel tucks his hands back in his jean pockets. Dean takes in his soft denim and grey button up with the sleeves rolled. He looks so comfortable in his own skin. He feels envious for a moment, wishing he could feel the way Cas looks. Like he’s master of his universe.

“Where do you need me next?” He swallows the tightness down and hooks his own thumbs in his pockets.

“Start in on cleaning stalls, if you want. Hoping we can get some tack cleaned this afternoon as well before I start to work with a few of the horses.”

They both head back into the barn. Dean grabs a pitchfork, the one with the blue tines, and a grey wheelbarrow that has a bit of a bent leg, and starts in on the first stall. He tries to remember what Ellie had showed him—sweeping back the stall a little then taking out the wet spot and sifting out the poop. It’s not as terrible a job as he had envisioned initially. The rhythm of the scoop, sift, toss, scoop, sift, toss, almost lulls him.

He gets through two stalls before he sees Castiel come with a pitchfork and wheelbarrow, starting on the stall across from him.

“Hey, the boss shouldn’t have to shovel shit.” Dean laughs a little.

“I’ll have you know I am an expert shit shoveller.” Castiel winks at him before he moves into the stall.

“Seriously, man, I can handle it.” He doesn’t want him to think he isn’t strong enough to get the job done.

“These stalls are a two person job, Dean, and the sooner we finish the sooner we can work on other projects. Just trust me.” Castiel moves to start cleaning and Dean just shrugs, returning to his own stall. He can’t help but steal the occasional glance over at Castiel. The way his forearms flex when grabbing a heavy wheelbarrow, or how his back muscles shift under his shirt when wielding a pitch fork.

He focuses hard on his work, enjoying the silence of the barn. He thinks he should make conversation, say something or turn on a radio. It’s a little unnerving at first, until Dean settles into the quiet. After a while it becomes surprisingly comfortable, and he finds just being in the barn and around Cas feels pretty damn good, dangerously good.

Castiel finishes dumping the last wheelbarrow, his stomach giving a growl. He goes back inside to see Dean standing in the aisle, stretching his hands above his head, shirt riding up to reveal a small patch of soft skin above the back of his jeans. He imagines how that skin would feel under his hands and has to fight down the twitch of excitement he feels in his jeans. He needs to rein in his attraction to this man.

He had seen the terror in Dean’s eyes this morning. He wonders if he had been having a panic attack before he got there, or if the loud noises had set him off. He watches him a moment now, looking a bit like a lost kid standing in the aisle. He looks a bit like a man trapped in his own skin. There’s a small tremble to his hand that he seems to be trying to dispel by running his hands along his thighs.

“Lunch time.” Castiel breaks the silence and Dean turns to him with a worried look on his face.

“I’m good, man, not hungry.” He gives Cas a weak smile, but Cas is having none of it.

“Come on, you can’t work this hard without something to eat.” He walks up to Dean, putting a hand on his shoulder and starts guiding him toward his house. Dean’s steps are hesitant, slow, as if he’s stalling for an excuse not to follow. Cas just keeps his hand where it is—Dean feels a bit like a magnet to his touch, pushing into it. He doesn’t let him go till he’s climbing his porch steps and pulling open the screen door for them.

“Really, I’m fine and my boots are a mess. I should just go start filling water buckets.” Dean leans away like he’s about to bolt down the steps.

“Please come eat for me. I will only worry about you and be distracted all day. Now you don’t want to do that to me, do you?” Castiel raises a brow at the man.

Dean scowls a moment before his shoulders drop. “Low fucking blow man,” he grumbles, but follows Castiel inside. 

He leads the way through the old farm house and into his kitchen. It’s his favorite room in the house, with wide plank hardwood floors and a deep farmer’s sink. Soft cornflower blue cabinets with copper accents give the place a calming feel. He leads Dean to the sink and turns on the warm water. Dean waits patiently while Castiel puts a bit of lemon soap onto his open hands.

He resists the urge to hold the man’s hands in his own, washing away the grime from his beautiful skin. Still they wash side by side, the heat of the man beside him distracting as they scrub and rinse their hands, watching the dirty water swirl down the drain.

“Hands out,” Castiel directs him, and is about to catch himself when Dean sticks his hands out toward him, damp and palm up. He swallows hard, grabbing a clean towel and dries his hands for him. Soft pats and pulls till he’s sure they’re good and dry. It’s strangely intimate and all too reminiscent of how he is with his subs.

Castiel has been a dominant for many years now. He enjoys the club scene on occasion, it’s where he learned much of his technique and preferences. He’d even tried once to sub and found it wasn’t for him. Still, he’s only ever taken a few people on as subs over the years. He’s particular about who he lets in to that part of his life. Granted, since he’d opened the farm here he hasn’t indulged in that pastime, and he’s feeling the itch.

Dean looks up at him, questioning as he pulls his hands back now. He gives him a warm smile, a silent praise and he sees Dean warm under the look. Now if he can only convince the man to eat.

“Sit,” Castiel doesn’t ask, he tells, pointing at the empty chair by the kitchen table. Most people might balk at that, hesitate at being ordered around even if it’s just being told to sit. Dean moves immediately, sitting himself down and clasps his hands in his lap. He may be the most eager-to-please person Castiel has ever met. He moves quickly then, grabbing some sourdough bread from the local bakery, ham, arugula, and some mayo. He preps two solid sandwiches, placing a few pretzels on each plate before bringing it over to Dean with two glasses of water.

Normally he would sit on the opposite end of the table, but instinct has him sitting in the chair right next to Dean on the corner. He places the food down and sees Dean stare at it warily. It’s hard not to notice how thin the man is. Something tells him it isn’t his normal state of being.

“I hope you like ham, the bread is my favorite.” Castiel smiles warmly at him and Dean just stares at the sandwich, his stomach giving an audible growl. He looks a little embarrassed but reaches forward for half the sandwich. He resists the urge to hand feed the man, something he has always enjoyed with his subs. He looks at his own food then, making sure not to watch Dean. Their knees bump under the table and when Dean doesn’t pull away he keeps his leg there.

He catches glimpses out the corner of his eye, Dean taking a few small tentative bites then a few larger ones. He feels warmth spread in his chest as Dean eats, and he happily tucks into his own lunch. 

“It’s good,” Dean says softly, grabbing a few pretzels from his plate and popping them in his mouth.

“Thank you, I’m glad you liked it. Arugula isn’t for everyone.”

Dean snorts at that. “Is that the green shit in here?”

Castiel can’t help but roll his eyes. “Yes, that is the ‘green shit’.” Castiel uses air quotes around the words.

Dean smiles then, real and genuine if not a little reserved. “It’s not bad, for rabbit food.”

“Not a fan of green foods, are you?” He raises a brow at the man.

Dean shifts a little, nervously pushing the pretzels around. “Not my favorite, no, but I guess with enough ham it isn’t so bad.”

“I’ll remember that.” He already starts to think of recipes he could make that Dean might like. He has a bacon lentil soup that most people adore.

Dean grabs his glass then and begins to chug the water down, some spilling down his stubbled jaw and along the column of his throat. Castiel wants to lean over and run his tongue up along that neck. He shakes the image from his head as he clears the table. He really needs to contain himself better.

Dean looks better after eating, more color to his cheeks and light to his eyes. They head down to the barn together and Castiel thinks about the afternoon. Ellie has a few lessons in the afternoon and he wants to start in on the new horse. He doesn’t really want to leave Dean though. Something is making him want to stay near the man.

“Have you ever cleaned leather before?” Castiel asks as they head toward the tack room.

“Um, just conditioned my combat boots.” Dean peers around at the room full of saddles and bridles.

“Well it isn’t too hard, just grab those two saddle stands.” They set the metal folding stands up and Castiel pulls down his favorite circle Y saddle, setting it on the stand in front of Dean. He grabs two stools, getting them both set up and a bucket of warm water, saddle sponges and a bar of new saddle soap.

“So how do you do this? There’s so many little pieces,” Dean asks, looking at the tack. 

Castiel sets another saddle down onto his own stand sitting next to Dean with soap between them. “It’s not so hard. Get the sponge a little damp, like this, but not dripping wet, then rub it against the soap and start working over the leather, see?” He begins rubbing the sponge in circles over the horn of the saddle and watches as Dean starts in.

The smell of the saddle soap is one of his favorite things, along with the way the stiff leather shines and flexes under his ministrations. He watches Dean work, making sure he isn’t using too much soap or too much water, but turns out Dean’s a natural at it. They clean down the stirrups and work up along the billet straps. He knows Dean is watching him, how he’s doing it and he goes slow to match his pace to Dean’s. It’s a little strange how Dean licks his lips as he watches Castiel’s hands move, it’s almost a…lustful look. He feels hungry in a completely different way from earlier as he focuses on his task at hand. They clean all of Castiel’s saddles and a few headstalls as well before he figures it’s time to start in with the new horse.

“You’re welcome to take a break and watch me work the new horse, if you’re interested,” he says as they set the last saddles back up on the racks.

“Yeah? Are you sure, though? Isn’t there something else I should do?”

“No, the stalls are set for later, and Ellie took care of the outside paddocks. We can throw down and stack hay before you go, though.”

“Sounds good.” Dean smiles at him then and makes the sun seem pale in comparison. “So what’s his name?”

“Cash. He’s a bit of a problem case, according to the owner. Fixing problem horses is easy, fixing problem owners is the hard part.” Castiel grabs the lead, heading toward the horse who is at the far end of the paddock. Ears twitching and head moving all around, he’s calmed a little and at least ate his hay and drank some water. The horse tries to dodge him but he manages to catch the halter and get the lead on before he bolts across the paddock. Still, it feels a bit like holding a tiger by the tail as he brings the horse over to the round pen. 

He notices a scars all along his lower legs and thinks back to his conversation with the owner. He’d gotten tangled in barbed wire when he was young. Lucky he hadn’t done permanent tendon damage in the incident. He scowls at the thought of how careless it was to leave him near that kind of fencing. Such a beautiful, well-balanced animal too. Short back and large, healthy feet.

He gets in the pen and Dean locks the gate behind them. He turns the horse loose, grabbing his stick from the ground and feels himself slip into the moment, watching the body language of the horse and trying to get a read off him.

He points up to the left with his free hand, then clucks and then eventually spanks the rope on his stick against the ground, sending the horse off around the arena. Cash takes off at a wild, bucking canter, kicking out to the center of the ring on occasion. Disrespectful and fearful, just like Castiel anticipated. He keeps a safe distance from him, just getting his feet moving.

Dean seems transfixed from his spot on the fence line. “I need to gain his respect,” Castiel calls to Dean, keeping his eyes on the horse. “I do that by getting control of his feet.” Castiel moves in front of the horse’s eyeline now, trying to draw him out toward him to change direction. The horse spins toward the fence, showing him his butt and Castiel moves fast as lightning to push him away, smacking the stick and making him move.

“Why did you do that?” Dean asks him, sounding confused.

“He was disrespectful. By showing me his hindquarters like that he’s basically flipping me the bird. I want him to give me two eyes. So I am making the wrong thing hard and the right thing easy.” 

Castiel moves again, working the horse around the pen. Cash slows a little, head drooping and he sees the horse looking up and watching him more. He tries again walking backward trying to catch the horse’s eye. Cash turns to face him then, giving him two eyes and he feels it, that connection snapping into place.

“‘Atta boy,” he coos softly, switching hands and sending him back out to the rail. Cash jogs off at an easier pace now. He can tell he finally has the horse’s attention. He stops and catches his eye a few more times, moving him back off much easier. He can almost feel it, feel when Cash is almost ready to surrender. 

_ You can do it, just trust me _ . Castiel thinks as he moves a final time to halt the horse. Cash turns to face him immediately, ears forward and locked on him. He turns his back, lowering his stick and walking away. He hears a small intake of breath from Dean, but he feels it as the horse is moving behind him, following him. He walks slowly around the pen, feeling Cash at his back, hearing the licking and chewing of submission.

He finally turns to face the horse, meeting his dark brown eyes, so much softer now, finally seeing Castiel, trusting him. It’s just a start, but it’s a damn good one. He moves forward slowly, placing one hand on Cash’s neck. He rubs a soothing, gentle hand over the horse’s face, who leans into him, the fear being replaced with trust and respect. It never ceases to amaze him how forgiving horses can be, how much they just long for connection the way people do. They just need someone to show them the way.

“I think that’s enough for today, huh handsome?” Castiel clicks on the lead, thinking about all the things he will work on with Cash tomorrow. He meets Dean’s eyes then as he heads to the gate, the man seemingly studying him.

“That was…that was really amazing, man.” 

Castiel feels a bit of heat in his cheeks at the praise. He wonders, not for the first time what it would take to make this man trust him.

“It wasn’t me, it was the horse who did the real work. Trusting isn’t easy for them, it was a brave thing he did.” He pats the horse’s neck as they walk back to the paddock.

“Yeah, I get that.” 

Dean tucks his hands in his pockets and Castiel can already feel his chest ache for the man. He sees as Dean’s eyes slip away, like he’s off somewhere else, lost in another world. He can’t help but reach out, brush his fingers along the man’s sleeve. Dean blinks over at him as if waking from a dream. The small, sad smile he gets is enough to break his heart. He doesn’t know what baggage this man carries but he desperate to find a way to lighten his load. But Castiel knows it takes time. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither is trust. He’s determined to earn it though…if it’s the last thing he does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Readers,  
Chapter three coming at you a little early. see you in the comments!  
Love,  
CB

_ “A man on a horse is spiritually, as well as physically, bigger than a man on foot.” - John Steinbeck _

Dean wipes a dirty hand across his brow, pulling in a few deep breaths before finishing his task. He has thrown down thirty bales of hay, but he has another ten to go, and then he needs to stack them all in the hay stall. He tries not to look up at the cobwebs as he moves to lift another bale. 

“How’s it going, Winchester?” Ellie calls from down below.

“Peachy fucking keen,” he calls back in mock sing-song voice. 

“We need hay, not peaches. Now, hurry up old man, these bales won’t stack themselves.” She laughs and he scowls at her. Who is she calling an old man, anyway?

He has to admit that she’s growing on him, though. He’s been working at Stowaway Farm for almost two weeks now. Everything fucking hurts. It’s almost reminiscent of bootcamp. His hands feel raw from the pitch fork, his back aches from the heavy hay bales, and his leg hurts from walking the fence line. Still, he can’t help but like being here.

Being at the farm feels a little bit like a spot of light in the darkness that follows him around. He still can’t seem to shake the ache in his chest and the lump in his throat. He still feels like he’s not always there, like he’s watching himself from far away. But a soft hand on his shoulder and the warm rumble of the farm owner’s voice will bring him back, and ground him.

He’s taken to having lunch with Castiel every day. The man can be a real pest about Dean eating as it turns out, even worse than Sam. He does find he has a better appetite when eating with Cas though, and things don’t always taste like cardboard. The smile he gets every time he finishes a damn meal gives him a whole other feeling in his chest. He’s not really ready to admit how good that feeling is, since he has no idea why he’s feeling it.

Dean tosses the final bales down, the twine pulling on his bruised hands before he thankfully jogs down the steps of the loft. Unfortunately his bum leg takes that moment to twinge, a shock of pain radiates up his calf and thigh. He feels a rush of air as the ground comes up to meet him. Bracing for the fall, he collides with something solid and hard and gasps out as he grips at the soft flannel shirt.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes out, blinking up to see a bewildered Castiel holding him up.

“You know you need wings to fly, or at least airline miles.” Castiel smirks at Dean, still holding him in a firm grip.

Dean blinks up at him a second before realizing how ridiculous he must look. “I, uh, will try and remember that.” He can feel the man’s hot breath against his skin and smell the scent of fresh pine shavings on his hands. He slowly pulls back and Castiel’s arms seem to reluctantly loosen. His leg still tingles and he feels a numbness in his foot as he tries to get his balance, but it’s not unbearable.

A steadying hand stays firmly on his shoulder, and he feels eyes combing over him. “Be careful on those steps, they can be especially slippery with the hay on them.”

“It’s not like I meant to fall.” Dean frowns, feeling every bit the clumsy person he’s become. He feels like the chick in some rom com. Helpless damsel tumbling into the hero’s arms. He used to be like a well-oiled machine, but now he feels like an old beat-up tractor on its last legs.

Castiel lets out a long sigh and holds up his hand, pulling down his sleeve. “Do you see this?” He points at his arm and Dean leans in to see a long thin scar running along his forearm. “This is from falling down those same damn stairs and my arm caught a loose nail. The stitches were your brother’s handiwork.”

Dean feels some of the tension ease as he smirks at the man. “You must have been in pain to let Doogie Howzer come near you with a sharp object,” he laughs, and Castiel only tips his head in confusion.

“Who is Doogie Howser?” Castiel squints at Dean, who barks out a laugh.

“Man, you’ve gotta be kidding me, everyone knows Doogie Howser.” He tries and fails to hold back a laugh at Castiel’s continued look of confusion. It feels so damn good to laugh, the weight on his chest lifts off a little. “Thanks for the catch, though,” he says a bit more earnestly, staring at the floor. He looks up in time to see Castiel flash a smile at him, and it makes his stomach do a little flip.

“Break up the damn chick flick would you, I have a lesson in twenty minutes,” Ellie gripes at them, coming out of the tack room. Dean and Castiel both move to stack the dropped hay, and Dean shakes out the pinch in his nerve to where it’s almost gone again.

“I actually came to ask you if you might want to work with one of the horses with me?” Castiel asks turning to him.

“Like, not just watching?” Dean asks cautiously. He’s been observing some of Ellie’s lessons, and watching Castiel when he works with Cash in the afternoons, but he hadn’t been able to make himself ask if he could try. Every time he’d gone to open his mouth the words just wouldn’t come. 

“Yes, I think you should learn to be more comfortable handling and working with the horses if you’re going to stay here, don’t you?” Castiel raises a brow at him, arms crossed. It’s the same look he gives to a horse right when it looks like they might give him trouble.

“Alright,” Dean answers, voice coming out small, and he clears his throat hard. ”Yeah, uh, let’s do it.”

“Follow me.” Castiel turns on his heel, walking off as he does, and Dean falls into line behind him. He heads toward an upper paddock and when they reach the gate, he turns to hand Dean a halter.

“You want me to catch the horse?” he asks incredulously. “I look like Roy Rogers to you?”

“I’ll be there with you. Come on, I know you can do this.” Castiel opens the gate, and Dean hesitates a second before following him through. 

There’s a small herd of three horses all eating off a few flakes of hay. “So, which one?”

“That one there, his name is Decaf.” 

Dean looks over a brown and white horse with a pink nose. “Decaf? Really?”

“Believe me, he earns the name. Now go on, I’m right behind you,” Castiel reassures him. Still, this is a thousand pound animal they are talking about, even if said animal is named after a weak coffee drink.

“Hey there, buddy,” Dean says as he approaches the animal. The horse lifts its head, sniffing toward him, probably looking for food. Dean moves toward its neck like he’s seen Ellie and Cas do, then slides the halter on his nose and over his ears.

“See, not so hard. Now when you lead him, keep him on your right side, and walk by his throat latch.”

“Throat latch?” Dean frowns.

“Where his neck meets his jaw. Yes, that’s right, and remember never to wrap the lead around any part of your body, that’s a good way to get dragged.” 

With that terrifying image in his head he begins leading the horse out of the paddock and toward the stable. To his amazement, the horse actually follows him.

They hook him up to the cross ties and Castiel begins walking him through how to groom the horse. Curry combs, stiff brush, soft brush, hoof pick, mane and tail brush, it’s a lot to remember and way more than he anticipated. Still, he listens. If he learned anything from the army, it was how to pay attention and take direction. Castiel is a good teacher though, he sometimes moves Dean’s body where it needs to be to pick up the hoof to clean it, or covers his hand in his own to show him how hard to curry to break up the dirt. By the end of it the horse looks thoroughly clean and shiny. He feels a small sense of pride, stroking his hand down the firm neck of the horse.

The horse’s head hangs low on the ties, eyes falling closed every so often. Dean thinks it must be nice to be taken care of like that—he’d probably look that happy too if it was him. He turns to see where Cas is and finds him returning with a saddle in his arms.

“And why do you have that?”

“Because you’re not ready to bareback yet,” Castiel replies in a perfect deadpan, tossing a saddle pad up on the horse’s back. If Dean’d been drinking something he surely would have choked on it.

“I’m not ready to do any back yet, bare or not,” he huffs.

“Well, I’m not forcing you Dean, it’s your choice. Either way he needs to be worked, so either you do it or I will.” Castiel shrugs as he turns his back and begins cinching the girth.

“I’ve never ridden before,” Dean protests.

“First time for everything.” Castiel heads to the tack room and comes back with a bridle. He explains to Dean the proper way to put on a bridle and check that it’s in the right place, as Dean mulls over the idea of actually getting on. He looks up at the saddle and thinks it looks very high.

“Now or never.” Castiel holds out the reins toward him and he feels his heart trying to thump its way out of his chest. There’s no pressure in Castiel’s eyes, just an invitation, an offering. Dean reaches out then and takes the leather reins into his hands in a firm grip, thinking he must have gone completely mad.

He moves to the right spot and follows Castiel to the outside riding arena. He’s glad they aren’t going to ride in the indoor one, since that’s where Ellie is teaching. Last thing he needs is to look like a moron in front of a kid trotting circles around him.

“Alright Dean, now always check your girth before mounting,” Castiel instructs, and Dean does as asked, thinking it seems way too tight. He mentions this, and Castiel explains, “It’s completely normal. Remember, it loosens on their belly once you’re in the saddle as well.”

He nods and Castiel helps him shift the horse next to the mounting block and Dean gets on the top step. Even this seems high to him, and he thinks this is why he was never in the Air Force—he hates heights.

He feels a hand on his thigh then and looks down to see Castiel smiling warmly up at him. It settles the tension in his throat, but ignites a flutter low in his gut. “Left foot in the stirrup, then swing your right leg over and lower slowly into the saddle, okay?”

He takes a few deep breaths. He can do this. If he can keep his calm under enemy fire, he can handle riding a horse. He puts his foot into the stirrup and feels the slight shift as he leans over and settles down into the saddle. He grips the horn in front of him, feeling the horse move and sway below him.

“Whoa,” he breathes out low, and hears Castiel chuckle.

“Okay, now we work on position.” Castiel moves to his side and puts a hand on his leg again, and one on the small of his back positioning his body how he wants. Dean tries to be pliable while not freaking out about being on top of a giant animal. “Very nice, Dean.”

The praise makes him smile as Castiel helps him grip the reins correctly. “Thanks, it’s uh, really high up here.”

Castiel flashes him another warm smile. “Yes, that’s half the fun. Ready to try a walk on the rail?”

Dean nods, his hands gripping the reins like his life depends on it, and maybe it does. Castiel clicks to the horse, urges him on, and then he’s moving. Dean almost flinches but feels Castiel’s hand on his knee again, walking next to him. The touch is calming and he lets his hips rock with the motion.

He feels off balance at first, till he kinda gets the rhythm of the stride. He feels a warmth growing in his chest and he can’t stop the smile from bubbling up. “This is kinda amazing,” he says, looking around himself. He feels powerful, almost like the horse is an extension of himself, tall and graceful.

“Had a feeling you would like it. It’s freeing being up there, having them trust you.” Castiel’s voice is warm. “We will do a few laps and I’ll have you steer him through some cones, then we can call it a day.”

Dean nods. He likes instructions, knowing what’s expected of him. He would like to blame the military for that personality trait, but he knows it’s goes back longer than that. Castiel stays close and guides Dean and Decaf through a few steering exercises, and for the life of him he can’t wipe the goofy smile off his face. He feels a spike of nerves when it comes time to jumping down, but Castiel shows him how to do it smoothly, and again there’s a firm hand on his back leading him to the ground.

As Cas stands next to him he can’t remember the last time someone has touched him this much. He didn’t exactly come from a touchy-feely family. He thinks he’s hugged Sam once in the past year and that was just because he’d gotten home from his last tour and Sam tackled him. Dean leads Decaf back to the barn and he leans in to whisper, “Thanks buddy,” patting his neck. He feels a little foolish talking to a horse and he hopes Castiel didn’t hear him.

“I have to run to the pharmacy to grab some witch hazel, if you want to come for the ride?” Castiel offers as they put Decaf back out into the paddock.

“Shouldn’t I get some more work done?”

“It’s a five minute ride. Come on, I’ll even buy you a candy bar if you’re a real good boy.” Castiel winks at him and he feels a flutter in his stomach. “Hurry up!” Castiel calls over his shoulder without looking back.

“Yes sir,” Dean says with a chuckle following Castiel to his farm truck.

The drive to downtown isn’t far, and he glances over at Lafitte’s Cajun Bar, thinking he should try and see his friends. He shakes off the feeling of guilt as best he can, following Castiel into the small grocery. Castiel heads toward the pharmacy section while Dean goes toward the prepared foods, looking for something they can have for lunch. With all the lunches Cas has been feeding him, it’s the least he can do to grab something this time.

He glances down at the refrigerated section and his eyes land on a large pack of hotdogs. His body runs cold as the color drains out of him. He blinks and suddenly he’s right there, black hair and dark eye smirking up him. He can almost touch him but that’s impossible, he can’t really be there.

_ Kevin? _

Kevin’s face suddenly turns burnt and black and Dean feels his knees about to go out. Not again, not this again. He can’t breathe, he wants to reach out, to scream, to do something but he may as well be frozen and he can’t move, suffocating, he’s suffocating. Something grabs him and he gasps and swings, hearing a grunt behind him and he’s almost falling but something is holding him. A vice grip around him and he’s sitting on a cold floor.

“Dean, Dean breathe with me, okay? In one-two-three, out one-two-three, in one-two-three...” He follows the warm deep voice behind him, sucking in a ragged breath and stuttering it out. His vision clears a little, and he can see the cold linoleum tile under his knees, his hands gripping a set of arms wrapped around him.

“C-Cas?” he huffs out.

“I’ve got you, Dean. Just breathe.”

Cas eases his grip a fraction, the slowing rise and fall of Dean’s chest. He can see a few people walking over, peering at them in concern, but he just nods for them to back away. “You’re doing so good Dean, just keep focusing on your breath. Yes, just like that.”

He praises Dean, feeling the tremor run through the man in his arms. He can’t fathom what triggered him so badly in a grocery store. It had been such a good day too. Dean had smiled, really genuinely smiled and even laughed. Castiel was starting to see a crack in the armor at the man underneath.

“Is everything alright here?” a man asks, coming up behind him.

He reads the name tag quick. “Hi Evan, can you give us just a moment?” The man looks worriedly at Dean, who isn’t saying anything.

“Sure you don’t need a doctor or something?”

Cas gives the kid his most confident smile. “I think we will be fine, just need a little air.”

Evan reluctantly nods, heading back toward the front of the store. Cas slowly turns Dean to try and get a look at his face. It’s hollow, his eyes are open but he isn’t sure Dean is even seeing him. “Dean, can you come to the truck with me? All you have to do is follow me, okay?”

He gets no response but it doesn’t surprise him. He moves slowly, getting under Dean’s arms as he lifts the man up to his feet. He’s surprisingly light and easy for him to lift, though all hard lines of muscle. Dean wobbles a moment on his feet till he seems to get his balance. He blinks up at Cas then, still glassy eyed.

“Cas?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Come on, I think we should head back to the farm.” Castiel smiles at him and Dean’s eyes just drift off to nowhere. He keeps a firm arm around him as he guides him out of the store and away from the nosy onlookers. He guides Dean up into the cab and the man goes without protest. He fastens his seat belt before getting in on his own side.

He turns the engine on, letting it idle a moment as he watches the man beside him. Dean’s head drops a little and he stares down at the palms of his hands. Such strong, and yet gentle hands they are too. “Dean, what’s your brother’s name?” he asks, low and soft.

He doesn’t think Dean is going to answer when he gets a quiet, choked, “Sam Winchester.”

“Good, and where do you work?” He watches Dean blink, still staring at his hands.

“Your farm.”

“Very good. And what day is it today?”

At this Dean turns his head a little looking up him, some of the storm behind his eyes clearing. “It’s Thursday.” Dean glances away again. “Was a bad one, wasn’t it.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Cas wants to crawl across the cab of the truck and hold the man, but he thinks he’s crossed enough lines today. “I’d say you had a bad moment back there. Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean just shakes his head. “I don’t feel very well. Can, uh, can you bring me home?”

“How about we go back to the farm and get something to eat? You can have the rest of the day off and we can just relax till your ride comes.”

Dean looks at him then, a frown on his face. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Good, because I have burgers, not baby food,” Castiel quips.

“Not hungry,” Dean adds, leaning back, looking miserable but more lucid.

“You can keep me company while I eat, then. What do you say?” He desperately hopes Dean says yes. The man is in no state to be alone. Still, he can’t exactly kidnap him. 

Dean finally gives a small shoulder shrug and Castiel feels the protective lion in his chest stop pacing and finally settle down. He drives them home and sends a quick text to Ellie, asking if she can handle Claire and Alex’s lesson that afternoon. Dean follows him to the house, still slow and eyes distant. He sets in on making burgers, handing Dean a cutting board and veggies to slice. Dean sets to the task, albeit slowly and silently.

“I’ll make extra in case you do get hungry,” Castiel tells him as he adds more patties to the grill. Dean doesn’t answer, just keeps chopping away. He fixes the burgers and moves to the living room with his meal. He piled on extra pretzel sticks and convinces Dean to at least sit with him on the couch. He flips on the TV and ends up on a National Geographic show about lemurs.

He keeps the plate between them but Dean never makes a move to steal any food. Castiel tries not to watch him too closely, though the impulse is strong. He thinks there’s a hundred ways he could draw Dean out right now, make him feel something, revive him. He’s itching to help him, and it takes more self control than he thought he had to simply sit and be there for him.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Dean says, breaking the tentative silence of the past two hours.

“How could I not?” Cas asks in return. Dean looks at him, then really looks at him, like he isn’t sure Cas is really there. Dean just nods. Looks at his lap again. “I’m so tired,” he says in a much smaller voice. 

Cas can see the weight the man carries on his heart and the toll it’s taking on him. He hasn’t given up yet, he’s still fighting, and Cas won’t give up on him that easy either.

“I know,” he answers back, wishing he could do more, do something. “Rest.”

Dean nods, leaning back in his seat, head tipped on the back of the couch. It’s only a minute before he slides down the couch and Castiel can’t help but guide his head onto a pillow next to him. He runs a hand up and down Dean’s arm and feels when his body goes loose and soft in sleep. It had been a really good day before they’d left the farm. There’s still hope for him yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello My Friends!
> 
> I made my Monday posting goal! 
> 
> I want to give a shout out of love, respect, and gratitude for all the veterans out there today, and everyday for all that they sacrificed. Even as a writer I just can't find enough words to express how I feel, so thank you.
> 
> I am really excited to share this chapter with you, there will be highs and lows coming at you. Thanks again to my beta's and friends who have supported me with this story, you guys are just amazing.
> 
> Love,  
CB

_ “There’s something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man.” — Winston Churchill _

_ “What on earth are you eating?” Dean sticks up his nose, looking down at the plate before him. _

_ “Dunno,” Kevin mutters, headphones around his neck and scribbling on a piece of paper. “Hot dogs, I think.” _

_ “Man cannot live on cold hot dogs alone. You're gonna get scurvy or something,” Dean says, frowning at him. He snatches up the plate, bringing the hotdogs outside where Benny has the grill on. He makes sure to grab a bag of chips and apple before bringing the hotdogs back in the tent to Kevin. _

_ Kid is still furiously translating and holding one side of the headphones to his ear. Dean snatches the headphones off his head as Kevin whirls and flails a moment. “What the hell, man?” _

_ “Eat!” Dean orders, pointing at the plate of food. _

_ “I almost have it figured out,” Kevin complains, but he pulls the plate toward him to begin to dig in. _

_ “You’ll get there, Kevin, using that giant nerd brain of yours.” Dean rolls his eyes. _

_ Kevin moans happily around the warm food and Dean can’t suppress a grin. “So good. Hotdogs are way better cooked.” _

_ Dean laughs and Kevin looks up at him, smirking. But something's wrong, his face looks burnt and there’s blood, so much blood. _

_ “Kevin!” Dean grabs his shoulders, feeling panic rise. _

_ “What? I got something on my face?” Kevin asks, touching at his charred cheek. Dean wants to gag. _

_ “Kevin!” _

“Dean, its okay, wake up,” Sam’s voice breaks through the screaming. It’s a shock when he realizes the screaming is him.

He gasps, blinking at the bright light in his room, body drenched in sweat. “Gonna—” He feels it coming and leans over the bed.Sam grabs the waste bin as Dean throws up the little that is in his stomach. The acid burns his throat and his head throbs.

“Easy, man. Here, drink this.” A glass of water ends up in his eyeline and he takes it with shaky hands. He sips at it, letting it soothe his throat. He’s woken up from the same fucking dream every night for the past two weeks, ever since his episode in the grocery store. Normally he doesn’t wake up screaming like that, or with his brother giving him the sympathy, puppy eyes.

“S’rry Sammy,” he slurs a little, taking another sip of water and leaning against the headboard.

Sam studies him. Something like hard resolve crosses his face before it disappears, and he just looks resigned. “Wanna go watch some  _ Twilight Zone _ reruns?”

Dean smiles just a little. He still feels hollow, but he’s immensely glad for the peace offering from his brother. He knows Sam can’t hold in his lecture forever, but he’s glad he won’t go into it tonight. Sam nods and heads toward the stairs while Dean shuffles to clean himself up, then he wanders down to the living room where the soft glow of the TV is waiting for him. He settles in on the couch with Sam already in the recliner. 

Just having Sam in the room settles some of his uneasiness. He was never very good sleeping alone—growing up he shared a room with Sam, and eventually bunked with his squad members. He just sleeps better with another person around. His eyes grow heavy by the second episode and he drifts back off to sleep.

Low morning light creeps into the room as Dean groans and wakes. Sam is gone and he can hear the shower running. He moves to look outside at the rain and thinks a shower might be pointless today. He owes Sam for last night, the twinge of guilt like a physical ache in his chest. He goes to brew a pot of coffee before he heads up to change. He still has work, unfortunately. 

He’d never intended to go back, not after making such a fool of himself in front of Castiel. If that damn son of bitch hadn’t shown up at his house, horn blaring, he’d have happily crawled into his bed and never come out. Castiel is nothing if not persistent, and Dean is learning just how hard it is to tell the man no. Still, the past two weeks have been no picnic.

When he’s not struggling just to sleep he’s just going through the motions. None of his smiles feel real, even when he wants to mean them. He didn’t even laugh when Ellie tipped over a bottle of Kopertox and had green-stained hands for the rest of the day. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. Something has to give.

He finds Sam downstairs, drinking the coffee Dean brewed and giving him a tired smile. There are dark circles around Sam’s eyes, all because of Dean. Not for the first time he considers moving, unburdening his brother. It’s the selfish side of him that doesn’t want to go.

Dean puts his coffee in a to-go cup and spots the pamphlet from the VA hospital sitting on the table next to Sam. When he first came home Sam had kept on leaving them all over the house, along with ones from the Wounded Warrior project. He’d stopped since Dean got the job at the barn.

“Just think about it,” Sam asks without looking up, without saying what they both already know. He can’t do it though, he can’t sit around in a room and talk about all that shit when all he wants to do is put it behind him. Maybe that makes him a coward, but he simply isn’t there and doesn’t know if he ever will be.

“Don’t wanna be late,” he replies, moving to grab his coat and waterproof boots before heading away from his brother and out into the rain. He waits in the cold interior of the car, watching for Sam. Impatient and feeling the itch under his skin, he honks the horn and a disgruntled-looking Sam jogs out toward him.

“What’s the rush?” Sam grumbles, fastening his seatbelt and fiddling with the radio.

“Let’s hit the road already.” He just wants to get to the farm and get his hands working.

“You could drive your own car, jerk,” Sam huffs, backing out of the driveway.

“You know I can’t, she isn’t—I just can’t.”

“You could have that car running in a weekend and you know it. Don’t bullshit me, Dean.” Sam scowls at the road, wipers going at full blast. Dean doesn’t have an answer for that so he sits and stews.

Castiel finishes the last sips of his coffee as he stifles a yawn. He’d had to get up nearly an hour early just to get all the horses in their rain sheets before turning them out. Ellie has a cold and he told her to stay in for the day, that he and Dean could handle the farm. He finishes with the last sheet on Louie, who tries to nip at him every time his back is turned, when he hears the familiar Charger engine out front. In a few minutes a wet and scowling Dean walks down the aisle. How can someone be so damn attractive even when wet as a rat and with a permanent frown on his face? 

Castiel feels an ache for the man when he sees the pained set of his shoulders, and the shadows under his eyes. The past two weeks have been especially hard. Dean had seemed to be coming out of his shell a bit before his panic attack, and now he seems even worse then when Castiel first met him.

“Morning, Dean,” he calls out, as he manages to sneak past Lou and out of his stall.

“Hey.” Dean nods his head, looking a bit lost like he always does when he first gets there.

“Ellie isn’t feeling well so it’s just us today. We need to get hay out under the rain sheds so it doesn’t get wet and then turn these guys out, okay?”

Dean nods, pulling a hood over his head and moving to get the hay. It’s hard work moving the wheelbarrow through the already soggy ground. They manage it, but the horses are all wound up with the weather, so he only lets Dean handle a few of the quieter ones. By the time they’re done Castiel is just about ready for a nap.

He watches as Dean goes right for a wheelbarrow to start in on the first stall, and Castiel has to admire his tenacity. A second hot cup of coffee is calling his name, but he figures they should get going on the stalls first. He tries and fails not to watch Dean too closely. He’s like this beautiful puzzle he can’t figure out. Beautiful hardly covers it—with his perfectly angled jaw, soft lips and bright eyes, he thinks he’s one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen.

He keeps thinking back to his last sub, Alfie, over the last few weeks. He’d helped Alfie, he knew he had, and he's tried to take solace in that. He doesn’t want to watch another person fall through the cracks, not if there was something he can do about it. He decides he needs to find some time to talk to Dean, see if he has any interest, or experience, in the life.

He gets through a few stalls in silence with Dean. The man moves like a machine through his work, and Castiel realizes he's already way ahead of him. The rain has finally slowed to a simple drizzle when Castiel glances around.Dean is nowhere to be found.

He checks the stalls, the tack room, the indoor arena and sees no trace of him. Moving outside, he hears a quiet, deep voice around the barn near Cash’s paddock.

“Sucky weather out, huh, man?” Dean’s voice sounds soft and low and Castiel slows his steps, peering around the barn. Dean is leaning on the fence and Cash is standing by him, sniffing over Dean’s coat, likely looking for a treat. “You don’t seem to care much, though.”

He watches Dean’s hand reaching out and running a steady palm up the horse's face. Both seem to still, the horse's eyes falling shut and leaning into the touch. Dean’s own eyes slide nearly shut as he lets out a long, ragged breath. He grins a little when Cash bumps at his hand nose, searching again for a treat. “You pig,” he chuckles, “wasn’t one enough?” Dean reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small peppermint and offering it to Cash. The horse snatches it up as Dean scratches up behind his ears.

“Enough spoiling him, it’s time he earned those treats,” Castiel calls to them as he moves around the side of the barn.

“Oh, uh hey. Sorry, I was just taking a break.” Dean shrugs, stuffing his hands back in his pockets.

“It’s perfectly fine. You more than earned a break.” Cas smiles at the man but he won’t meet his eyes. He sighs, grabbing the halter and going to catch Cash. The horse approaches him when he opens the gate, dipping his head for the halter, and Castiel just so happy with how much he’s improved in such a short time.

“You're welcome to join us,” Castiel offers as they head past Dean.

“Nah, I should finish up chores.” Dean ducks his head and swoops past them into the barn. Castiel has been unable to coax Dean into riding again or working with any of the horses. He’s glad to see he bonded with Cash but he seems to be holding everyone, even the horses, at arm's length.

Cas shakes the worries from his mind and focuses on the task at hand. He sticks to ground work with Cash but decides to do it with the saddle on, to see how he reacts to it. Cash is immediately more resistant, ears pinned and a sour look to his face. Cas ignores it and puts the horse through his paces. Whatever bad experience this horse had under saddle before, he’s fairly certain he can convince him to give it one more try.

Cash slowly unwinds as Castiel moves him around the arena, working on getting him to yield in all directions, to bend and flex. By the end of it, Cas has sweat on his brow but Cash is softer now, head down and following closely behind Cas. He loves this moment, when the horse truly yields and they give him their full trust. He pats the horse's neck in smooth, even pats as he walks them back into the barn. It takes a bit to cool Cash off, enough to turn him back out with a new flake of hay, and he’s thinking it might be time for lunch when he hears a startling cry.

Glancing all around, he can’t see where it came from but he sees a spooked group of mares bolting up from one of the paddocks. He jogs over and slows when he hears a familiar voice cursing, “son-ova-bitch!”

“Dean?” Cas calls nervously peering around a water trough to see Dean lying down in a black mud puddle, utterly soaked. He couldn’t contain the laugh if his life depended on it. Grabbing at his stomach he tries and fails to stop what can only be described as giggles.

“Go ahead, yuk it up,” Dean growls under his breath, scowling down at himself.

“How…how did this happen?” Castiel asks as he gasps for breath, trying to reel in the laugh as he moves to help Dean up.

“My boot got stuck in the mud and when I tried to yank it out,” Dean points at himself, a smattering of mud across his beautiful face. It does nothing to tarnish the man’s beauty.

“Come on, let’s get you up then, mud man.” He offers Dean a hand, which he looks like he may refuse on pride, till he realizes how little leverage he has in the mud. Cas grips hard, one hand on the fence as he pulls Dean to his feet and helps guide him out of the paddock.

“I look like the monster from the black lagoon or something.” Dean sighs as he pulls his damp clothing away from his skin.

“More like you went through one of those Tough Mudder competitions. Come on up to the house, you can shower and borrow some dry clothes.” Cas holds out a hand, gesturing to the house. Dean looks warily at him and then the house.

“You really don’t have to, I can just run home,” Dean mumbles.

“I am not letting you walk all the way home in those wet clothes, and you certainly aren’t getting in my truck that way. Just come inside and get cleaned up. I am sure I can find something that will fit you and we can put your things in the wash.” Castiel is starting to be able to read Dean, and he always seems to relax when he has a simple, clear task ahead of him.

“Yeah, okay.” Dean nods and follows Castiel up toward the house. He leads him to the back porch where he has a mudroom slash laundry room.

The screen door creaks behind him and he grabs a towel off a top shelf with a bit of a stretch before turning to Dean. “Why don’t you take off those wet clothes and leave them here so you don’t track too much mud in the house?”

Dean looks up at him with shocked, big green eyes, but he nods, biting at his lower lip a moment before he is shucking off his clothes. Castiel stands transfixed as Dean lifts his damp shirt, revealing his bare chest. It’s only then—when he sees his hard dusky nipples and the smattering of freckles on his round shoulders—that he realizes he is essentially watching the man undress. He turns around, the heat burning on his cheeks as he holds out a towel behind himself in offering. He hears jeans hit the floor, the sound some stumbling as wet socks are pulled off, and eventually the towel is mercifully tugged from his hand before his imagination can run away with him.

“So uh, a shower?” Dean asks, low and nervous sounding and Castiel takes that as his cue that it’s safe to turn around. Dean is completely naked save the towel wrapped around his waist, skin bristling in the cold. He sees the fine shiver run through the man and manages to pull his mind out of the gutter long enough to play host.

“Yes, you can use mine upstairs, the guest bath is in need of repairs right now.” Castiel leads the way, and just the sound of Dean’s bare feet on the hard wood is making his heart thump in his chest. He feels that protective urge building in his chest. He wants to take care of this man, he wants to wash every inch of him in the shower, rub out all those aches and pains. He wants to lay him out on the bed and tie him down and just worship his body like the temple it is. He wants to hear the sounds Dean makes when Cas brings him to the brink again and again before finally granting him release.

He reaches his bedroom and flips on the light. “There bathroom is through there, and you’ll find a clean towel on the bar there. I’ll leave clothes for you on the trunk, just come down when you're ready or call if you need anything, okay?”

Dean blinks up at him, looking like he wants to say something but just nods before heading quickly past him and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Dean can’t believe he’s standing naked in Castiel’s bathroom. He’d been a bit mortified stripping in front of Castiel. He’d always been proud of his body, he knew he had a handsome face. Dean used to carry his head high when he walked in a room, a swagger to his step that always felt natural to him. Lately his body doesn’t really feel like his own. Muscles not as strong, skin not as tan, scars littering his torso. He’d been waiting for the look of disgust or maybe even pity on Castiel’s face when he laid eyes on him. What he hadn’t expected was to see a look of pure lust cross over the man's face.

If Dean had been unsure of Castiel’s preferences before he wasn’t unsure of them now. They had some serious  _ fuck me _ eyes going on. He’d been so shocked he’d nearly dropped his towel. As it was, he realized in horror, that he was beginning to pitch a tent against it. Thank god the man had averted his eyes and led the way upstairs. Dean’s half-hard cock had been a constant distraction. He’d been so relieved when he finally made it into the bathroom without Castiel noticing. 

He looks at his mud-smeared face in the mirror and then down at his erection. He hasn’t gotten hard like this since…well, since he got back. He’s managed a few weak orgasms in the shower, but none were very satisfying and he felt like he had to fight for them. One look from Cas and he his dick was more than ready standing at attention.

“Jesus Christ, at ease, man,” he whispers to his cock and then rolls his eyes at himself. He starts the shower and waits for the old pipes to heat up. He breathes a sigh of relief when he finally steps under the warm water, letting it warm and pink his skin. He struggles to ignore his dick but he keeps thinking about the look on Castiel’s face and the heat in his eyes and he’s achingly hard.

“I will not jerk off in my boss's shower,” Dean scolds himself, scrubbing at his skin with a soft honey scented bar of soap. It smells sweet and subtle but very soothing as his soapy hands skate over his body. He moves around his cock giving it one quick, innocent tug with his lathered hands and lets out an indecent moan.

He chokes on the sound, listening for any kind of movement. When there is none, he can’t resist any longer. Taking himself in-hand, he slowly begins to work his cock. He imagines Cas there watching him, blue eyes locked on his every move. He leans back against the shower wall and just strokes steady and smooth, and he can almost hear Castiel’s rich voice telling him what to do and how to tease himself. He isn’t going to last long, and he feels it building as his balls tighten and he increases his speed.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, Cas!” he cries out on a soft whisper, choking back the words as he spills all across the tiles. He rests against the wall, panting for breath as he holds his soft cock in his hands. He can’t believe just came that hard and thinking of his boss like that. His heart stutters a moment as he imagines Castiel hearing him. Hearing him call out Castiel’s name. Its terrifying and so fucking hot all at once. Blinking away the dizziness, he hurries to finish his shower and wraps a fresh towel around himself before peering out into the bedroom.

He hadn’t really taken much of a look around, but he takes a chance to now. The bed is enormous, with soft, stone-grey bedding and a quilt. It's a large four-poster and Dean gives the frame a little shake, surprised with how sturdy it is. No particle board here, this is all solid wood. He looks at the wooden chair in the corner with a plush red pillow on it, and the large wooden oak chest at the foot of the bed.

As promised, there is a neatly folded blue henley, pair of jeans, and black boxer briefs. He flushes realizing these are Castiel’s and he’s going to be wearing his clothes. He gets a little thrill from it that he can’t seem to explain. He pulls on the underwear and jeans, noticing and thankful for the belt since they are a little big on him. He tugs on the henley next and smells the scent of Castiel’s detergent.

It’s become a soothing scent to him somehow, always underlying the smell of shavings and hay. He runs a hand over the lid of the oak trunk, marveling at the craftsmanship of it. Without a thought he lifts it to look inside, expecting to see extra blankets or pillows. What he sees, however, short circuits his brain. He leans in to get a closer look, his heart trying to crawl up his throat.

There’s a leather harness, and this one is not meant for horses. He sees a red ball gag, a paddle, a long handle with leather tassles on it, and more cuffs and straps and cords of rope than he can possibly process. He stares at it all, swallowing hard as he feels his dick twitch in his pants. This is some next level gear, the kind of stuff Dean only glanced at in the back of a sex shop once but wasn’t brave enough to really look at.

His eyes settle on a neatly coiled rope in a soft cream color. He reaches in, unable to stop himself and lifts it from the trunk, feeling the soft weight of it in his hands. For a second he imagines the rope wrapped all around him, binding him, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest. He wakes from his trance when he hears footsteps approaching, but he isn’t fast enough before he’s suddenly looking up into surprised blue eyes.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice rumbles. Dean can feel it deep in his chest. He looks up at him and realizes he is well and truly caught…and maybe he just might want to be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Readers!  
A few days early posting, which I am so excited about. So there is dialogue in this chapter that I wrote back at the beginning of this fic. I showed my beta readers and told them that this was what I had to get the characters too. I am so happy to finally share this chapter with you guys. See you in the comments!  
-CB

_ "The horse, with beauty unsurpassed, strength immeasurable and grace unlike any other, still remains humble enough to carry a man upon his back." ~ Amber Senti _

“I can, uh, I can explain.” Dean licks his lips, nervously clutching at the rope in his hands. He feels like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar...or the sex toy jar. You know, same difference.

“Didn’t you ever learn it’s rude to snoop?” Castiel replies coolly, leaning on the door frame, his arms crossed and head tipped to the side. 

“Sorry, I just thought it was a cool chest and when I opened it I wasn’t expecting—”

“You weren’t expecting what?” Castiel raises an expectant brow at him. 

Heaven help him, Dean nearly shivers under that look. His recently spent cock gives an interested twitch in his borrowed boxers.

“The um, the stuff,” Dean flounders, still holding the incriminating rope.

“It’s hemp, the one you’re holding. It’s my favorite actually, softer on the skin than nylon and the knots come undone better than cotton.” Castiel shrugs like he’s talking about the weather.

“You tie people up with this?” Dean asks, rubbing a thumb over the twisted cords, internally agreeing that it is soft.

“Not just anyone, no. Consenting adults who want me to.” Again, Castiel just shrugs. “Not much experience with the lifestyle, I’m guessing?” It’s not condescending—he seems genuinely curious.

“Can’t say that I have, but no judgment, man.” Dean slowly places the rope back into the chest and lowers the lid. He fidgets for a moment, unsure of what else to say, and he’s sure his cheeks are redder than a fire engine.

“If you’re curious about it, you can ask anything you want,” Castiel offers, pushing off the door now and taking a step into the room.

“Trying to seduce me there, with your kinky toys?” Dean laughs, but it catches in his throat under the intense stare boring into him.

“It isn’t always about sex, you know. Many people engage in these kinds of relationships for a number of reasons, often stress relief.” Castiel smiles at him then. “Come on, I’m hungry. Let’s have something to eat and you can ask me whatever you want. That is, if you’re not worried I might tie you up and never let you go?”

Dean’s feels his whole body freeze at those words, mouth going dry. He tries to imagine it, Castiel standing over his bound form, Dean completely at his mercy. It’s terrifying…and yet.

“Dean?” Castiel looks a little concerned now.

“Yeah, lunch…lunch sounds good,” he mumbles as Castiel relaxes and leads the way downstairs.

Once they reach the kitchen Dean watches the guy pull a chair out for him. He slides into the seat as a hand falls on his shoulder. The touch is firm but fleeting, and he wishes it wasn’t gone so fast. He feels strange, like his nerves are tingling, something crawling under his skin. His leg jiggles under the table as he watches Castiel move about the kitchen, stirring something on the stovetop before he ladles it out into two bowls.

Dean licks his lips and tries for something to say but he just can’t think of anything. He watches the man’s sturdy frame as he places the soup on the table, a warm curl of steam coming up from the bowl. He looks down at it to see a tomato bisque, and can’t help a small smile.

“Looks good,” he says breathing in the sweet smell of the soup as Cas puts a bag of crackers between them.

“Thank you, it’s one of my favorites on a rainy day. Eat up.” Castiel gestures at his bowl and Dean does as asked, taking a tentative first bite. It’s the perfect temperature, hot enough to warm him up without burning his tongue. It’s not the same as his mom’s tomato rice soup, but it’s pretty good.

“So, you been doing that stuff for long?” Dean asks as casually as he can, eyes on his soup.

“You could say that. About ten years now.” Castiel seems comfortable with the topic, and not like he thinks Dean is prying.

“And you like to do the tying then?” He feels a lump in his throat, but curiosity might burn him alive if he doesn’t know more about this, more about Cas.

“Are you asking if I am a dominant?” Castiel raises the spoon to his mouth and Dean watches as a pink tongue darts out before swallowing.

“I think so?” Dean knows what a dominatrix is from TV, maybe a dominant is the guy version? That sounds possible. Does that mean Cas wears like leather pants and heavy black boots and cracks a whip on people?

“Dean, I can see your mind running away with you.” Dean blinks up at Castiel over his soup. “I am what is considered a dominant, meaning I like to be the partner in control in a BDSM relationship. A submissive is the person who likes to hand over control to a dominant.”

“Who would like being bossed around?” Dean scoffs. “I dunno man, I don’t really see the appeal.”

“Says the Marine.” Castiel rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so quick to judge. Submitting is a true sign of strength and trust. It can be very rewarding to the right person.”

Dean feels a bit scolded, but he supposes he deserves it. “Alright, so what do people like about it?”

Castiel seems to think for a moment, dropping a few more crackers in his soup. “When a submissive decides to trust someone to be in control of them, they don’t have to worry about making any decisions. It takes some of the weight off their shoulders, and I suppose some find a rush in being that open and vulnerable with their dominant. Others enjoy being cared for and doted on by a dominant, being the center of another person’s every desire. Others enjoy being broken down to their very base instincts and desires. It just depends on what both people want from the relationship. A mutual power exchange, if you will.”

Dean takes a sip of his soup and mulls that over. Sounds kinda crazy to him, like a really good way to get hurt. He doesn’t think he could ever trust someone enough for that. He’s had more than enough hurt for a lifetime, he doesn’t need to invite anymore in. Not like Castiel is inviting him to do this anyway, they’re just talking about it. All hypotheticals. Would Cas even want to do something like this with him? Is that why he’s telling Dean all this stuff? He’d joked about Cas trying to seduce him, but he wonders if there isn’t a little bit of truth to it.

“Do you, like, whip people and all that?”

Castiel chuckles at that. “I prefer a flogger or a leather paddle, and only if my sub is a masochist.” Castiel looks carefully at Dean before continuing, “I am not a true sadist, I don’t derive pleasure from others’ pain. I do, however, enjoy bringing my partners pleasure and joy, and if that can be done for them with some pain then I am happy to oblige.”

“You make it all sound so…so…normal,” Dean hedges.

“For me it’s become my normal, I suppose. Though I am sure it sounds pretty far fetched to someone like yourself.” There’s a hint of mischief in Castiel’s eyes.

“Hey, don’t judge a book by its cover, you don’t know how kinky I might be.” Dean waves a spoon at Cas, getting a warm chuckle in return.

“I’ll make a note— _ Dean Winchester, kinky bastard _ .” Castiel smirks, and Dean feels a heat rush into his cheeks.

“Do you have a person, or a sub now?” Dean flicks his eyes up to glance at Cas, seeing an unreadable look pass over his face. His eyes seem to drift off for a moment before they focus back on Dean.

“I did. He’s gone now,” he answers simply.

There’s a growing tension in the room as Dean shifts on his chair and stirs the soup in a mindless circle. Thoughts of who Castiel’s sub was, and what he was like, and why it ended swirling in his mind…and holy shit, it was a he!

Dean glances up and sees a sadness on Castiel’s face, and he wonders if this guy broke his heart. He feels a strange anger burning up his chest at the thought. Acid in his throat at the very idea of someone hurting someone like Cas. He’s the kindest person Dean has ever met—he gives Sammy a run for his money.

Taking a chance, he reaches out a hand and places it over Castiel’s. Blue eyes look up to meet his own, and he struggles, but manages a genuine small smile for him. “Sorry, man.”

Castiel’s eyes soften, crinkling around the edges. It fills Dean with warmth even more than the soup does, and he tries not to think too hard on that. “Thank you, Dean.” Castiel turns his hand under Dean’s and gives it a firm squeeze that nearly steals his breath. They are holding hands. Holding hands, which is such a benign thing, and yet he feels it all over his skin—like Cas is touching every part of him as their palms rest against each other. Heart hammering in his chest, he can only sit there and stare at where their hands are joined.

The screen door bangs open, causing both men to jump and pull apart. A damp looking Ellie pulls off her hood and lets out a yawn. “You got any decongestant? I ran out and I can barely breathe.” She sniffles and coughs. Castiel smiles at her and pushes away from the table to go grab some, and just like that, the moment is gone. 

Ellie takes the offered medicine and with a wave to Dean, treks back out into the rain. Castiel clears bowls with Dean’s help as they both go to put back on their coats and boots. He goes to head out the back door when Castiel’s hand on his sleeve pulls him up short.

“Dean, I am sure this all seems like a lot today. If I made you uncomfortable at all—”

“Hey no, man, you didn’t, I promise. It was kinda interesting actually.” He shrugs it off as no big deal.

“If you ever have any more interest or questions, I’m here, alright?”

Dean wishes he could accept that offer, the one Castiel is giving him between the lines. He just doesn’t know if he’d ever be brave enough to try something like that.

“Thanks, Cas.” He smiles and feels it reach his eyes this time. At least it earns him an answering smile before they head back down to the barn.

Castiel watches Dean the next few days, hoping he hasn’t scared the guy off with his toy chest, as he lovingly thinks of it. Dean doesn’t seem uncomfortable around him, but he does catch the man staring more and more frequently. He has no doubt Dean went home to do his own google searches on the subject, and only hopes he found some honest information mixed in with the trash.

Dean even corners him a few days later and asks what Castiel’s safeword is and if he even has one. He laughs and tells Dean it’s _ angel,  _ but that he has never used it as a dom. Dean had nodded before hurrying back off to work.

There are still dark shadows around his eyes and he still sees the man flinch whenever Lou does an especially hard kick to his stall wall, but he sees moments of hope, mostly when Dean is with Cash and he thinks no one is watching him. He even overheard Dean mumbling to Cash one day, “It’s crazy, right? I couldn’t actually do that,” before he went back to cleaning the paddock with Cash watching over his shoulder.

Cash’s owner hasn’t shown up even once to check on his progress, though the board check has arrived in the mail. The horse is a lovely mover, with an elegant flat-kneed trot and naturally smooth gate. He's almost ready to get some real time in the saddle on him soon. He doesn’t believe in riding out a buck, he always thought that with enough prep on the ground work then by the time he got on, it would be smooth sailing. At least in the vast majority of horses.

It's a fairly warm, sunny day and Cas is down to a simple v-neck tee and jeans as he leads Cash out to the arena. He can see Dean and Ellie working on fixing the broken drag for the ring. Rowena, one of his boarders, is almost done with her ride. She may be one of the most petite people at the barn, but she owns the largest horse. Oscar, a huge black friesian gelding, is the flashiest horse on the property. He's also a bit of hot head if you ask Cas, but his wild nature suits Rowena. The woman is damn near fearless.

“Having a good ride?” Castiel asks as he begins stretches with Cash on the ground to loosen him up.

“Oh yes, he’s a wee bit fresh today, but can’t blame him with this weather.” She winks at Castiel. The horse snorts and pulls on the reins, pushing into a longer trot. Rowena sticks to the saddle like glue, carefully pulling him back in and opening up her seat. It's impressive to watch her collect up all that energy. Oscar licks and chews at the bit but seems to settle more and more with each stride.

“Atta boy!” Rowena barely turns her heels in before he launches off into a canter, long black mane whipping in the wind along with Rowena’s own fiery red braid. They are a sight to see, and Cas is nearly distracted from his own horse till Cash nudges at his chest.

“Sorry there bud. Come on, big day for us.” He pats the horse on the neck before moving to the saddle. He puts a foot in the stirrup, bouncing a few times before pulling himself up and just stands there for a moment. He runs a hand over the horse's shoulders and flank, watching for any signs of distress from Cash. Curious eyes blink up at him but he doesn’t flinch or seem all that concerned.

“Now or never,” he says, more to himself than the horse. He swings his leg up and over, carefully lowering himself into the saddle. He does a few stretches with Cash from side to side before letting him straighten out and urging him into a walk. Rowena seems to be cooling her horse out, which is a blessing since it's likely to help keep Cash calm.

Cash walks off with ease, and Castiel can’t help but smile at the comfort of the gait. He wonders why his owners struggled so much with him when he seems to be a soft, willing horse by nature. He’s so far from the fire breathing dragon that came off the trailer a few weeks ago, he hardly recognizes him.

“Looking good, boss!” Ellie calls to him, and he can’t help but smile over to her. Dean is grinning up him as well. Grease stains on his face and clothes only add to his charm.

He sinks his heels down into the stirrups and gives a light squeeze. Cash moves out from under him into a large extended trot and he moves up to match him, posting along with the stride. He can’t keep the smile off his face as they float around the arena. Cash even brings in his nose and is pushing from his hind end without hardly any guidance from Cas. Someone taught this horse right at one point in time, which meant someone screwed him up along the way.

He works at the trot in both directions and decides to see how the canter goes. Opening his hips and sinking down, he presses with the outside leg and Cash pushes off effortlessly.

“Are you seeing this?” he calls to Ellie who is standing by Rowena now, watching.

“I want a turn, he looks great!” she calls back to him and he chuckles, sitting deep into the stride and feeling the powerful three beat thump of his hooves upon the ground. It feels like flying, like Cash is an extension of his own limbs, powerful and graceful and limitless. Nearly nothing compares to it, and it always humbles him.

“That’s my boy,” Dean calls a little quieter as they pass, but his smile is bright as he watches them go by. Castiel eases the horse back down to a walk, thinking he really wishes this horse was his.

“What a good boy you are.” He strokes along Cash’s neck and loosens the reins, allowing him to stretch out. Sometimes just walking out can be the most relaxing part of his ride. Dean comes up to him as he dismounts and looks like he’s trying to come up with the courage to ask something.

“Can I take care of Cash for you?” Dean asks, reaching out to rub the horse's face.

“Yes, if you're sure what to do.” Castiel hands the reins over to Dean who takes them happily, and he thinks saying no to this man is a physical impossibility.

“Thanks, I’ll make sure he’s good before I put him back out.” Dean nods and leads Cash toward the barn. “You did so good, man,” Dean whispers to the horse as he walks off. All Cas can think is how badly he wants to keep both of his very good boys.

Dean spends a little longer than he needs untacking and cleaning Cash off. He uses some conditioner that’s slippery on his fingers to run the tangles out of his tail and just hums his favorite Zeppelin song. He never really thought horses could have such personalities but he’s been happily surprised. Cash is actually pretty funny, bumping him with his nose and playing with the buttons on his jacket. He still sees a fire to his eye sometimes, especially when his apparent nemesis Lou is walked by his paddock. Dean can appreciate a nemesis and makes a scowl as well, you know, in solidarity.

He reluctantly brings Cash back to the paddock, then uses the tractor to drag the riding ring while no one is in it. Cas and Ellie tell him to head home so they can feed the horses dinner, and he’s honestly pretty wiped so he just waves and begins the walk home.

He has a bit of an appetite after working so hard and wonders if Sam has thought of anything for dinner yet. It’s Sam’s day off so maybe he cooked something. He likes walking home when the weather is nice. Gives him a chance to be alone and just relax into the march. It reminds him a little of going on patrols with his squad—the measured, sure walk. Only difference is now he is walking alone.

The lights are on in the whole house when he walks up the back porch, sun almost set behind the trees and darkness settling in. Kicking off his boots and cracking his neck as he makes his way into the kitchen, he halts when he hears laughter coming from the living room. He approaches slowly, peering around the corner to find Sam and Benny sitting down with beers in hand.

“Hey brother!” Benny calls with a smile when he spots Dean standing in the entryway.

“He’s my brother, go get your own.” Sam rolls his eyes and tries for a small smile at Dean. “You want a beer, Dean?”

Dean feels his throat constrict and he tries to swallow around the rock forming there. “What’s uh—what's Benny doing here?”

Benny looks a little hurt at his words, and it feels like a sharp pain right in his gut. “Sam invited me over for dinner, I brought my jambalaya.” Benny tries again for a smile.

Dean knows what this is, knows Sam and Benny have never gotten along and he’s only here for one thing. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Benny.” Dean crosses his arms, hoping to somehow cage the growing tension within him.

“Don’t be an ass, Dean, it's just dinner and some beers,” Sam adds, scowling at him. Dean knows he’s being a jerk, but fuck, he is not gonna get manipulated like this.

“Like you two aren’t trying to stage some goddamn intervention? Get me to go the VA or some talk therapy shit I don’t want?”

“It’s not like that, I promise. I already spoke my peace on that, brother. Just miss my friend.” Benny is standing now and so is Sam, both looking at him with so much pity he could puke.

“Yeah, well, maybe you forgot when I nearly broke your damn nose that I don’t want your help or your advice. I want to be left alone.” He doesn’t even know why he’s so angry. He’s thought of going to Benny’s a hundred times. Apologizing for losing his shit on him when he first got back. All that old anger is drowning all that out, though. Benny wasn’t there, Sam wasn’t there, and they don’t know what Dean went through. They have no right to come in here without any warning.

“Seriously, he’s your friend and he—”

“No, you could have just told me he was coming, asked me before inviting him but you knew I would say no so you did it anyway!” Dean spins on his heels, stomping off toward the kitchen and drags on his boots, ignoring the protests behind him.

“Dean!” Sam calls to him from the porch but he can’t stop, won’t stop. The anger is burning him alive, flames licking up his skin and the smoke of it suffocating him.

He breaks into a run, feet pounding the pavement into the now dark night. His leg is screaming at him and he clings to the pain, lets it feed his rage and distract from the deeper ache in his chest. When did he get this fucked up? He’s been so numb he didn’t even feel human anymore and now, now all the emotions feels like they are choking him. He can’t keep doing this, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

He blinks as the exterior lights of the barn turn on and he doesn’t even know when he ended up here. It just hurts so fucking much and he needs to make it stop hurting. He runs into the barn, gasping for breath and he grabs the nearest shovel, needing to hit something. He lifts it in the air, swinging at the unsuspecting hay bale and lands with a solid thump. The shock of it ripples up his arms and lifts the shovel and slams it down again, and again, and again.

“Fuck you!” he yells at the hay bale, at himself, at no one.

“Dean?” Someone says his name but it sounds far off, and far away, and he can’t.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! He thumps at the hay till his foot slips and he drops the shovel on the ground, stumbling into the hay.

“Easy there.” A deep rough voice from behind him, reaches his ears.

He’s broken, he is just so fucking broken and no one ever told him it was going to be this hard, that he wouldn’t be him ever again and he just can’t.

“You're not broken, Dean, I promise you're not. Just stop, okay?” It's Castiel. Did he say those things out loud? He can’t process it, he still needs to hit something and he cocks his fist back and lets it connect with a bone-crunching sound against the barn wall. The pain is instant and blinding and he feels hard arms wrapped around him, pulling him away from the wall. He struggles to break free, to strike out, but his energy is draining now and he just feels so tired.

“I’ve got you, Dean, you're okay. Just take a deep breath.” Castiel voice is like honey and he clings to it, slumping a little in the man’s arms.

“I don’t know w-what to do,” he chokes out.

“You can let me help you, if you won’t let anyone else. I think I can help you feel again, without drowning it,” Cas answers softly, still holding him tight. 

Dean's glad Cas can’t see his face, which is probably a mess of tears. He’s pretty sure he will fall completely apart if the man lets him go.

“H-how can you help?” He feels Cas turning him in his arms and he moves, pliant and soft, the rage drained out of him. He still can’t meet Castiel’s eyes, he just stares at his perfect throat.

“It’s all about connection, Dean. You can’t have that unless you let yourself be vulnerable, let someone in. When you lose the ability to connect that’s when you get lost, that’s when you can drift away. There’s no such thing as connection or trust without vulnerability and risk. Over there you couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, in war you had to close yourself off. But the same thing that made you a soldier, that kept you safe over there...it can kill you back home. I don’t want to see you fade away. You need to take that first step, it has to be your call. Trust me, let me earn your trust. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Dean looks up then into those deep blue eyes. He wants to believe this man, he wants to feel hope again, but how is he even supposed to start doing what Castiel is suggesting?

“How? How do I even do that?” Dean asks, letting his hands rest against Castiel’s strong chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat calming him.

“I’ll show you…if you just let me take the reins Dean, just for a little while, let me take care of you?” 

Dean sees the sincerity in his face and he looks down at his bruised and bleeding knuckles. He certainly isn’t doing a very good job of it on his own. Maybe he can let this one person in, maybe he can let Cas shoulder some of the weight for a little while. Feeling suddenly calmed by the thought of handing over control to Cas, it settles something within him.

“…Okay…okay, I’m in.”

Castiel smiles at him then, and it’s bright and warm like the sun beating down on his face. Cas steps back from him, standing a foot apart from him. “Come and kneel for me.” Castiel points at the matted floor and Dean’s body sinks to his knees, palms resting on his thighs he looks up at Cas, waiting.

“There’s my good boy,” Castiel practically hums, sinking his hands into Dean’s hair and gently carding them across his scalp. “You're going to be just fine, my remarkable boy.” His eyes slip closed at the sensation and Castiel just stands there for a few minutes, hands never leaving his head, lulling him to the point he thinks he might topple over and fall asleep right there in the barn.

“Alright, up you go. Take my hand, that’s a good boy. I want you to follow me into the house, alright? Walk slightly to my left, one stride behind. We have some things to discuss before we go any further, and I want to take a look at that hand.”

Dean smiles and nods thinking that is probably a good idea since it's turning into a throbbing pain now. Something feels warm and calm in his chest, because he knows Cas will take care of him. As he moves to follow Castiel into the house, he thinks it’s probably one of the biggest risks he’s ever taken in his life, and yet…he’s never felt safer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends!  
Alright I think this may be the softest BDSM I have written, but honestly I just went with my gut on this. Hope you all enjoy some hurt comfort, emphasis on comfort. Also sorry this posting was late, I was travelling the last two weekends in a row just getting home tonight (most of this was written in a cabin, in the airport, and on a plane). Fun side note, the cabin trip I took with my co-author Trenchcoatbaby was a blast and we got the first chapter of our next fic together done! hoping to get some more written before posting but get ready because I am super excited about this one.  
All the Love,  
CB

_ “I can make a General in five minutes, but a good horse is hard to replace.” — Abraham Lincoln _

Castiel flips on the light in the mud room, kicking off his boots and turning to find Dean awkwardly standing in the threshold, cradling his hand. He guides Dean gently by his shoulder to sit on the bench. He feels the familiar calm slip over him as he goes into his dominant mode. As he kneels down at Dean’s feet and smiles up at him, hoping to put him at ease, he can see the concern and exhaustion written across his brow. Dean manages a small smile back as he begins to help him take off his boots.

“Is…um, do doms do stuff like that? Shouldn’t I be on my knees?” Dean asks in a small, husky voice.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you will be. But it’s a dom’s job to take care of their sub's needs. This is me doing that.” He rises to his feet, offering his hand to Dean. Dean grasps it in his good hand and keeps a tight hold as Cas leads him to the couch in the living room. Cas knows he has to tread carefully, that there are so many things to discuss and go over. He knows all of this, but right now he just needs to take care of the hurt man before him.

He leaves Dean on the couch as he goes to grab the first aid. Luckily he is fully stocked in bandages and ice packs and everything else he could need. Injuries on a farm are par for the course.

Kneeling down once again before Dean, he pulls the injured hand carefully toward him. Dean is still and pliable as Castiel turns the hand around, testing each finger and only getting a small hiss of pain from the man.

“Make a fist for me, yes, just like that. Does it hurt too bad?” Dean only shakes his head. “Do you think it could be broken?” Again, Dean frowns and shakes his head. Castiel hums in agreement. “I don’t think so either, so let’s wrap it up and get some ice on it.”

Castiel takes a warm bowl of water and begins to clean the wound. The abrasions are superficial and have mostly stopped bleeding. He goes slow and careful, disinfecting them before wrapping the hand in a gauze and laying an ice pack over what he is sure will be some spectacular bruising.

“I know you're tired, but we need to talk about a few more things, alright? And I need you to answer me with words.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah.” Dean nods, watching Cas with careful eyes.

“First, I want you to text your brother and tell him where you are and that you will be staying the night.” He watches as Dean’s face absorbs the command. He only hesitates a moment before pulling out his cellphone and typing out a fast text.

“I didn’t mean to mess up your night,” Dean apologizes, the guilt written like scarlet letters across his face.

“You did no such thing. I’m happy you are here,” he pulls the man’s good hand toward his lips, placing a soft tender kiss to his knuckles. Dean’s body seems to settle a bit at that. Responding to touch in such a visceral way—he should be touched often and by hands who care for him.

“Do you know what a safeword is?” Castiel asks, watching as Dean’s eyes go wide before narrowing down at him.

“Um, yes?” he replies slowly.

“Your safewords are going to be yellow and red for tonight, okay? Yellow means to slow down. You use it when you are uncomfortable with something we are doing, and want to slow down but not stop completely. Red means a hard stop— I immediately cease whatever I was doing, no questions asked, alright?”

“If I say ‘red’ then you just leave me alone?” Dean sounds concerned at the prospect.

“No, not at all, it just means we stop doing whatever was making you uncomfortable. I won’t leave you unless you tell me to go. You can always safeword at anytime and it will never be held against you, Dean. You need to understand this and promise me you will do so before we go any further. Trust goes both ways, and I need to be able to trust that you will let me know if you're at a limit.” He’s firm now, throwing a bit of command into his voice. Dean fidgets on the seat, and although Cas wants to still him, he has to swallow that urge down for now.

“I understand. Red for stop, yellow to slow down.” Dean nods like he is logging it into his brain. Castiel wants to chuckle. He’s come to know Dean fairly well and he knows how much he likes to excel at things. He likes a challenge.

“Good boy.” Castiel smiles at him, reaching out to give his knee a squeeze. Dean’s body practically vibrates, and Cas isn’t sure if it’s the words or touch that does it. “My last question before we start is whether you are comfortable with things getting… sexual in nature? For what I was planning to do tonight it would not become sexual, but in the future I think it may be something we’d both enjoy?” He feels his own nerves rolling in his gut now. He’s never been in a BDSM relationship that wasn’t also sexual. Cas was never very good at separating the two things, even though he knew people who had done so. He thinks if it’s really what Dean wants though, he will find a way to make it work.

Dean for the first time blushes a deep red and barks out a laugh, “We’d both enjoy it? Fuck, man, what a pick up line.” Dean laughs again, and despite Castiel’s growing unease, he can’t help but love the sound.

“We don’t have to do—”

Dean throws up his injured hand, interrupting him. “No, I get it, and I, uh, I’d like that too.” Dean gives him a more genuine smile now and Castiel feels some of the knots loosen in his own gut.

“For tonight I don’t want you to worry about anything. I just want you to relax and trust me, okay?” He pushes himself up to standing now, looking down at Dean and taking in his already soft body language. “I want you to strip for me, everything off and folded on the couch there. Then come and meet me in the kitchen.”

Castiel watches the look of shock flash over Dean’s face and he sees the questions rolling around in the man’s head. The instinct to defy and fight right on the tip of Dean’s tongue. Castiel is ready for it if he does, but he watches as Dean seems to come to his decision, nodding as he goes to stand. “Okay, Cas.”

“Sir. When we are in a scene like this, you call me Sir.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean says a bit more firmly, looking more at ease with the simple phrase. Dean is going to be a natural at this. He turns then, leaving Dean to it as he snags a large pillow from the couch, heading toward the kitchen. He flips a few of the blinds closed on his way and places the pillow next to his chair. Heading to the fridge, he looks around before he pulls out his dinner. Leftover roasted chicken with vegetables and potatoes. Luckily there is enough for both of them and it should be an easy food to give him.

He heats up the food quickly in the microwave, as he waits he hears Dean’s soft footsteps, feeling Dean’s eyes on him. He keeps his back to him, giving Dean time to settle a bit before he moves him to the next step. Normally he has more of a plan, has discussed all the things his sub wants and needs before they scene. He’s improvising a bit and trying to trust his instincts that this is what Dean needs.

When he finally does turn toward the table, Dean is standing next to it, arms crossed behind his back and feet shoulder width apart. He’s holding his chest up and out, head bowed slightly. Its nearly perfect form and he wonders if Dean has been looking at different sites or if this comes from his training as a marine.

He places the plate on the table, moving toward Dean who is still as a statue. He feels overwhelmed a moment as he takes the man in. His eyes travel over the soft freckled skin to his dark dusky nipples. The beautiful curve of the V on his hip bones leading to a soft thatch of hair above a beautiful cock, lying soft between his legs. His eyes travel farther down his thighs and he sees as the skin begins to change. Warped and burnt skin with jagged raised red scars lay across his calf. He can only imagine the trauma to cause such scarring, and it explains Dean’s limp.

“They aren’t as bad as they look,” says Dean in rough voice, not looking up.

Castiel only hums softly. “Every inch of you is beautiful, Dean.” He walks around him in a slow circle. “Your skin tells only one small part of your story, one piece of the man you are. All I see in you is strength and beauty.” He leans in to place a soft, chaste kiss on Dean’s shoulder. He resists the urge to drag the man to bed and kiss away every last ache and wound. To make Dean feel as cherished as he is.

“Come and kneel or sit on the pillow, however is comfortable.” Castiel moves to take his seat and waits as Dean seems to gather himself before sitting. He ends up sitting cross legged, shoulders dropping, probably feeling the exhaustion of the day hitting him.

Castiel cuts the food up into small pieces, putting some chicken on the fork with a potato and lowering it to Dean’s eye line. The man stares at the food, then up at Cas, confusion plain on his face. “Eat,” he states simply, leaving no room for argument. Dean opens his mouth gently, pulling the food off the fork and smiling as he begins to chew.

He can’t help but card his fingers through Dean’s hair. He feels him stiffen a moment before he practically goes liquid, leaning up against Castiel’s thigh and tilting his head to rest there. “Such a good boy for me,” he hums softly, taking a bite of his own food before lowering the next bite for Dean.

He lets the calm wash over him as well, the heavy weight of Dean’s head against his leg and the rhythm of each bite of food. He’s impressed how at ease Dean is so quickly. He’d been sure that the nudity would have made him balk. Surprisingly enough he seems completely comfortable with it, barring his initial nerves over his leg. He wonders for a moment if Dean will ever tell him that story. He hopes he does, that he finds enough trust to let Castiel in. Things like that are going to take time. He smiles, knowing he would wait any amount of time to know this man.

Dean lets his eyes shut for a moment as he chews another bite of food. It’s warm and savory and he just lets himself enjoy it a moment. He can taste all the flavors and herbs, and it isn’t like cardboard for once. Getting on the floor naked should have been a bigger deal than it was. He was accustomed to not having much privacy and had never been a modest person until he came back from overseas. His body hadn’t felt like his own and he certainly hadn’t wanted anyone to see it…except Cas. Somehow he feels like Cas already sees right through him. Can see who he is maybe better than he can, so what are a few layers of clothes anyway? 

He’s shocked to admit how freeing it feels to bare himself. He’d been nervous about the kind of pity he might see on Castiel’s face when he saw his leg. Even worried that he may look at him in disgust, and yet he’d barely batted an eye. He just took all of it in like he’d taken all of Dean in since the day they met. 

His head still rests on Castiel’s firm thigh, and he feels the urge to reach up and put his hand there but he isn’t sure if he can. He doesn’t really know all the rules to this, so he figures he just needs to follow Castiel’s lead.  _ Well no shit, Winchester, that’s kinda the point. _

He huffs a little laugh at himself and feels Castiel’s hand in his hair again, and he could get used to that. He feels so utterly drained—all that pent up rage is gone, but it’s left behind a void. He just wants to feel good, feel like he’s worth it and like there’s a reason to keep fighting.

“All done then,” Castiel says, pushing away from the table and grabbing his plate. Dean isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do next. Does Cas want him to get up and help with dishes? Should he say something? Is he allowed to? He has done his fair share of googling about the lifestyle, but most of it is just poorly written romance novels or straight up porn and he is pretty sure that isn’t really what Castiel is offering here. He’s going to get an hour into this thing and already fail because he has no idea what he is doing and—

“Dean, shhh, sweet boy, you are just fine, okay? I can see that mind of yours working,” Castiel says calmly as he comes back from the sink, his hand immediately slipping into Dean’s hair and giving a light tug.

“Sorry, Sir,” he mumbles back, not sure what he’s apologizing for.

“None of that, you’ve done nothing wrong. Now, I thoroughly enjoy doing a full inspection of my subs, it helps me to know they are well before I begin a harder part to a scene. Up you go.” Castiel taps his head and he moves gingerly to his feet, kicking out his tingly leg a bit.

“Good boy,” Cas smiles at him and it makes Dean feel soft and warm to his core.

Castiel leads him to the living room again and holds up a hand for Dean to wait. Dean watches him go to his closet and pull out a navy rectangular folded mat and carry it over to the over-sized coffee table, laying it open across the top.

“The table is long and sturdy, so it should work fine. I’d like you to lie on your back for me, hands above your head, and your feet flat on the table, knees bent.” A hand on his shoulder guides him forward.

Dean sits on the cool mat and scoots himself all the way up, shifting a little till his hips settle. He put his hands behind his head, and places his feet flat down, knees together. His injured hand stings a little so he shifts it until he finds a spot that doesn’t hurt.

Castiel hums thoughtfully above him. “I’m going to touch you now,” he says, voice smooth as silk. 

Dean nods. A tiny voice in the back of his head is wondering when the whips and handcuffs are coming out but he silences it quickly. He doesn’t need to worry because he trusts Castiel and he can safeword if he needs to.

A hand sinks into his hair while another spans out across his chest. He jumps a little at the touch but quickly stills, letting his body go heavy into the table. He still can’t believe this gorgeous, kind man wants anything to do with him, but he isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He hums contentedly as the free hand glides over his chest, his shoulders, up his arms and back down again. Fingers tickle at his sides and he squirms a bit, huffing a laugh.

“Ticklish here?” Cas asks above him, hand grazing his side again. Dean grits his teeth and tries to stay stock still but he finally gives, wiggling as much as he can without falling off the table.

“Alright you win, stop,” Dean laughs lightly and Castiel does stop, smiling at him.

“Back in position.” Castiel eyes him with a raised brow. Dean has a sudden yearning for defiance in him but he bites it back before settling into position again. The hand returns, being joined by the one in his hair, firm and steady against his shoulder. Castiel begins to massage at his pecs and Dean groans as a thumb presses right into a knot. It feels amazing and he never even realized how much tension he was holding there.

“Your body is so beautiful, and so very tense.” Castiel sighs, moving in circles with his hands coming closer on each pass to Dean’s nipple. He feels his skin prickle at the idea of being touched there. He’s always been sensitive on his nipples but he’s rarely had a partner who paid them much attention. A calloused hand brushes over his now hard nub and he gasps at the touch, arching up off the table a bit. Castiel doesn’t say a word, just begins to roll the bud against his thumb before moving to the other. Dean's cock begins to take notice, fattening where it had been laying soft between his legs.

“So responsive. You're doing so well for me. Think we could have a lot of fun with these another time.” Castiel winks at him before moving his hands lower down Dean's abdomen. He lets his eyes slip closed again, tracing the path of Castiel’s hands in his mind. Fingers brush over him, massaging a little as they go, digging into a few knots in his hips that make him let out a long sigh of relief. 

Cas repositions his knees farther apart, rubbing up along the thigh and calf of his good leg. It feels absolutely amazing and he can’t remember the last time he was touched by someone who wasn’t a doctor or a nurse. He can sense Cas moving to the other side and he tenses, waiting for the touch on the other leg.

“Dean, can you look at me?” The voice is gentle as both hands rest on his hip. He blinks his eyes open and looks up at Castiel. “I would like to touch your leg, but if it hurts or you simply aren’t comfortable I want you to let me know immediately, understand?” Dean gives a tiny nod. “I need words, Dean.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy.” And if that doesn’t make his chest feel warm. He relaxes just a little as Castiel’s hands slowly massage his thigh, moving in a rhythmic pattern closer and closer to his knee. He can’t help but press his eyes closed waiting for the jolt of pain, or even worse—the complete loss of touch when Cas is disgusted by him.

Castiel’s fingers are strong and careful as one supports his leg and the other runs down over the scar on his calf. “Breathe, my good boy,” Castiel murmurs to him and he sucks in a deep breath, letting it out as Castiel's hand runs back up his leg.

His nerves tingle a little and muscles flinch under the touch, but it feels so fucking good he could cry. He breathes slow and steady, and as each touch comes the leg seems to go as loose as he is. His body gives in to this man's touch, letting go and unraveling months of pain.

He chokes back the whimper of relief he feels as Castiel now cradles his leg in his arm, pressing out knot after knot under his battered skin. “Just amazing, sweetheart, so good for me. Does that feel better?”

Castiel's voice seems distant and almost far away and he nods. He can’t form words right now and he doesn’t want to. Finally Castiel sets his leg back down and he’s drifting so deep by now that he almost doesn’t register when Cas wraps a hand around his cock.

“Mmmm,” is all he manages to Castiel's chuckle.

“This is lovely, Dean. I can’t wait to see just what you can do with it.” The warm, heavy voice is low and suddenly thick with lust. Another hand gently cups and rolls his balls and he lets out a low moan, desperate to keep from thrusting up into the touch.

“Please,” he whines a little, knowing the soft touch is just enough to get him hard.

“Not tonight, sweet boy. Now flip over for me onto your stomach and go slow,” Castiel orders, letting his cock go.

Dean is desperate to complain but really he feels too good to muster up a fight. He still pouts as he flips over, resting his face on his hands and Cas helps adjust his dick so it isn’t being painfully squished under him.

Castiel’s hands dig deep into his back,pressing the words from his lungs, “Holy mother of god.” Cas doesn’t reply, only keeps massaging his shoulders, back, ass and back down his legs again. Dean's fairly sure he’s melted into the mat by now.

“One last place to check, sweetheart, then I think it’s off to bed.” Cas hums gently as he nudges Dean's legs apart. One hand grips each cheek as they pull him open, exposing him. He shivers at the feeling of air hitting his tightly furled hole.

“Do you like to bottom, sweet boy?” Cas asks conversationally as one of his thumbs presses lightly against his hole.

He sucks in a breath,  _ yes yes yes yes please yes _ . “Yes! Yes, Sir. I actually prefer to bottom especially when I’m with a g-guy.”

The happy approving sound Cas lets out would make him weak in the knees if he were standing. “I’m glad to hear it, since I love to keep my subs happy and full.”

_ His subs. His sweet boy.  _ He plays with the notion of  _ being _ Castiel's and he realizes he hasn’t wanted anything quite this much in a very long time.

“Alright, come sit up for me.” Castiel guides Dean to sitting despite his weak limbs. He drinks the offered water while Castiel pets his hair. “You did so well on your first inspection. They won’t all take so long, but I am just learning your body and your needs. I know you're probably tired. I’d like us to share a bed tonight. I promise no sex, not till we have our full discussion in the morning. Are you comfortable with that?”

“This your way of asking for a cuddle?” Dean cocks a goofy grin at him. The answering smile is worth its weight in gold.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Castiel lifts a brow at him.

“All you had to do was ask.”

Castiel nods, looks at him and leans in and quick as a flash pulls Dean up into his arms. Dean grips at Castiel's shoulders in shock and scowls a little at his soft chuckle. “Heavier than hay bales, but think I can manage.”

Cas carries him up the stairs and into the same room from the other day. His eyes go wide as he takes in the trunk, but Cas simply places him on the bed, ushering him under the fluffy covers. It’s so much comfier than his mattress at home.

Cas slips out of his jeans and shirt, then slides quick under the covers with Dean. He hesitates only a second before shifting over closer to lay his head on Castiel's chest and listen to the soothing thump of his heart.

Castiel shuts off the light and turns on a small TV, flipping the channel to  _ Jeopardy _ . With the volume on low and the hand carding through his hair it’s only a few minutes before Dean is drifting off to a blissfully dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends!  
I will start by saying I am sorry for how long it took to get this chapter finished and posted. Holidays and work have been a bear and then I decided to make this chapter a little longer than normal to fit in the final scene. Hopefully you all approve. I feel so lucky to be able to post chapters to both my fics today! Neither of which I could do with out my dear friend/editor/co-author TrenchcoatBaby, or my other lovely amazing betas and editors who gave me insightful feedback this chapter to help make it just right. Love my fanfic community so very much. So without further ado on with the chapter!  
-CB

_ "There is something about riding down the street on a prancing horse that makes you feel like something, even when you ain't a thing." ~ Will Rogers _

Sunlight warms the back of Dean’s eyelids, red and burning, so he buries his face into the soft pillow below him. He stretches under the covers, a flex of his toes, and then realizes he’s naked. Naked and not in his bed. He sits up fast, blinking in the bright light of the room and takes in his surroundings. The previous night comes back to him in pieces, and he flops back against the bed as he remembers all the things he did—the things he let Castiel do. He looks but Cas is nowhere to be found, everything still and quiet. He listens till he hears the sound of footsteps and the crackling of something cooking downstairs.

What is he supposed to do now? Should he stay naked and waiting for Cas in bed? He feels uneasiness growing in his gut, till he sees a bright yellow note sitting on the bed next to him. He snatches it up, reading it quickly.

_ Good morning Dean, _

_ I have left you some clothes at the foot of the bed. Come meet me for breakfast when you’re ready. _

_ Castiel _

Dean sighs out a huge breath of relief, rubbing at his face and finding the folded clothes at the foot of the bed. He goes to the bathroom before slipping into the boxer briefs, sleep pants, and tee shirt. Just as he’s leaving the room he sees the small bedside clock reading nine-fifteen a.m. Holy shit! He bolts from the room, despite his leg muscles protesting, and jogs down the stairs to find Castiel standing over a sizzling pan.

He pauses a moment to take in the way the morning light hits his hair, his strong, square hips in his thin flannel pants, the way his back muscles move under his threadbare and obviously well-loved tee shirt. Cas is kinda beautiful, and when he turns to look at Dean the light behind his eyes is dazzling and warm. Dean stares, and feels an answering smile on his own face.

“Morning. I hope you like potato latkes.” Castiel turns back to the pan and begins pulling off the potato pancakes with a spatula. 

“What about the horses?” They must be banging down the stall doors by now.

“I don’t think they’d like latkes very much.” Castiel shrugs, carrying a heaping plate over to the table.

“Did you already feed them?”

“Ellie took care of the barn this morning, we have time. Sit, eat.” Castiel has laid out plates already and comes back with applesauce and sour cream. Dean thinks he’d rather have ketchup, but grabs the sour cream and digs in. He takes the offered cup of coffee with a grateful smile, breathing it in before taking his first scalding sip. It burns deliciously and makes him feel warm all over. The potato pancakes are amazing and he lets out an appreciative moan around them.

“How are you feeling this morning? Did you sleep okay?” Castiel asks as he takes his own seat, cupping hands around his mug the way he always seems to do before drinking from it.

“Yeah, I did,” he answers, surprising himself. He really did sleep so soundly he can’t even remember waking up once in the middle of the night. He’s been up before the sun most days since he can remember.

“I’m glad to hear it. I thought now that you’ve had some rest, we could talk a little more about how we want things between us?” Castiel’s voice is strong and confident in a way that makes Dean feel safe.

“I don’t really like talking.” Dean shrugs a little, pushing a latke back and forth on his plate.

“Humor me?” Castiel's foot nudges his own and he nods his consent. “Maybe we can find a better setting for it, though?” A mischievous look crosses Castiel’s face and is gone in a second.

“Am I going to regret this?” Dean quirks a brow at him.

“Only one way to find out, I suppose. Come on, let's get dressed. I need some fresh air, don’t you?”

They clear the table together before getting dressed in their normal barn clothes. Dean finds that Castiel somehow washed and dried his clothes that morning, and he wonders how early he’d gotten up. They make their way down to the barn and Dean sees Cash way out in the front field, rolling in the grass.

“Stay out of the mud!” Dean yells, and laughs when the horse startles to his feet, bolting and kicking and running across the muddy field.

“I think that's horse for 'fuck you.'” Castiel laughs, watching as Cash spins in another muddier spot in the field and drops down to roll for the second time, coming up covered in mud.

“Jerk!” Dean laughs as Cash gets up and shakes hard before moving back to grazing.

They make it down to the barn and Castiel finds a halter, handing it to Dean. “Go and grab Decaf—he should be in the upper left paddock. We’re going for a ride.”

“But I don’t—I can’t—I mean, I’m not sure—”

“Dean, you will be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time, I promise. I wouldn’t bring you if I didn’t think you could do it.” The confidence in Cas' voice does settle something in him, and though he still thinks Cas is nuts, he heads out to the paddock to get his horse. They begin tacking up together, Castiel offering guidance and checking the cinch is in the right spot, making a few adjustments. Castiel has grabbed the red bay mare, Sugar, that he had been working with the first day Dean met him. They lead the horses outside to the mounting block and Cas holds Decaf steady while Dean swings himself up, wincing a little at the pull of the saddle against his bandaged hand.

He grips the soft leather reins, watching as Castiel effortlessly swings up into the saddle and rides up next to him. “We are just going for a little walk, alright? Just sit tall, both hands on the reins, and Decaf will follow me.” Dean thinks anyone would follow Castiel given the chance, but luckily doesn’t voice that embarrassing thought. 

Dean does just as Castiel says and they head off toward a trail he hadn’t noticed before. The sun is warm on his face and he finds his body softening into the saddle—it still seems really high to him, but it’s kinda exhilarating. The path is wide as they ride side by side into the woods, sunlight breaking through the leaves in a patchwork over the ground.

“Feels a little like going on patrol,” Dean says, breaking the quiet. “This is so much cooler though. I do not miss that heat—or the spiders the size of my goddamn fist.” Dean laughs a little. “This guy in my unit, Benny, jumped about a mile when he saw one by his bunk. Screamed so loud, and Kevin just grabs his rifle and starts shooting at the damn thing, screaming ‘ _ die motherfucker!’  _ Nearly pissed myself laughing.”

Castiel tilts his head at him. “Did he kill it?”

“Nope, he missed. Course, the fucker ran at me and I stomped it…a few times.” Dean chuckles, remembering the disgusted look on Kevin’s face and the pale expression on Benny’s. A familiar ache settles on his chest, feeling the loss keenly.

“I’m sure you were very brave,” Castiel confirms. “Is Benny the same who owns the restaurant in town, Lafitte’s?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s him.” Dean feels heat crawl up his neck. “We were in the same unit.”

“Was he on the last tour with you?”

Dean feels his face harden, hands gripping the reins. “No, we’d done three tours together. He didn’t want to go back for the fourth.”  _ Left me the fuck behind _ , Dean thinks bitterly. As soon as the thought crosses his mind a niggling voice in the back of his head tells him that’s not really fair, and he knows it. Some of that long burning anger that flares in his chest at the thought is slippery this morning, hard to hold on to.

“You blame him, for not going back,” It’s a statement, not a question, and Cas isn’t wrong.

“Yeah, I do. S’not really his fault though.”  _ It's mine… _

“Sometimes we just need somewhere to lay the blame, just to give it a home. Whether it belongs there or not. More often I find we put that on ourselves,” Castiel adds, with a bit of sadness to his own voice.

“Yeah, got plenty of that,” Dean huffs.

“One of the things I love about horses—they don’t judge you for your past, they only care about the here and now.” Castiel reaches forward to pat Sugar on the neck.

Dean looks down at his own horse and thinks he has to agree. The steady stride beneath him is soothing as they make their way through the forest.

“I’d like to talk to you, Dean. If you’re interested in continuing what we started last night, we need to be on the same page with it.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea.”

“I think if we did this we’d need clear boundary lines. I’m not interested in a twenty-four-seven power exchange dynamic. I don’t think that would work for you either, would it?”

“Makes sense to me,” he offers, since he can’t imagine making that big of a change.

“Good. What do you think about Saturday into Sunday, we can have scheduled scenes? Then if it's working for us both, maybe a few other nights a week?”

“I like the sound of that.” Dean smiles a little. After last night he is certainly ready for more.

“I will send you home today then with a list of…activities or kinks, and I want you to read them over carefully.” Castiel’s voice has a bit more of that command that makes Dean want to straighten his back. “Cross out anything you never want to do, circle anything you know you enjoy, and underline anything you want to try but maybe haven’t done before."

“What's on this list?” Dean asks with a small smirk.

“You’ll find out.”

“Awww come on, a hint?” He sticks out his bottom lip, leaning over in the saddle, and bats his lashes a little.

Castiel lets out a loud laugh. “Oh, you are going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

“Think you can handle it?” Dean asks with a laugh, and realizes he actually wants to know.

“I do love a challenge. I’m sure I'm up to the task.” Castiel winks at him and Dean feels the heat in that stare.

They finish their short ride through the woods, Castiel giving pointers to Dean as they go— _ stop swinging your legs, open up your hips, tighten up on the reins, lean back a little _ . He can feel muscles he didn’t even know he had protesting but he tries to follow the instructions as best he can, and starts feeling more and more at ease in the saddle. Finally the barn comes back into view and Dean can see two figures waiting for them. Ellie stands next to a tall, red-headed woman and it takes Dean a moment to recognize her as Cash’s owner. His good mood floats away the instant he figures it out.

Castiel spots the two women at the same time as Dean, recognizing Abbadon and Ellie waiting by the back of the barn. He can tell by the tension in Ellie's shoulders just how that conversation has been going. He swings down from Sugar and goes over to Dean, guiding him down from Decaf. Dean’s scowls over at the two women, his lips pressed in a firm line. Castiel hates to see his good, easy mood ruined but he can’t argue with the general sentiment.

“Dean, would you mind bringing Sugar and Decaf inside and begin untacking them? I will come check them before you turn them back out.” 

Dean nods and takes Sugar’s reins from him, heading into the barn.

Castiel schools himself into a smile and heads over to his waiting client. “Hello, Abbadon. I didn’t know you’d be stopping by today.”

“Castiel. I was in the area and wanted to check in and see how you are progressing.” The woman levels her shark eyes at him, and he is again not surprised how nervous Cash is around this woman. Castiel is not so easily intimidated.

“Well, he’s out in the field, but I haven’t worked with him yet today. I can bring him to the ring and we can talk through how he’s doing?”

“I’ll grab him,” Ellie offers, likely taking the opportunity to get as far away from Abbadon as possible.

“Will he be ready to show by next month?” Abbadon asks, crossing her arms.

“I’d say he needs more time before that. Did you decide what discipline you are interested in? I think he has a knack for patterns, so we could work on trail classes or equitation patterns, western riding patterns.” Castiel’s mind swims with the possibilities. Cash is incredibly responsive and cautious with his feet. Enough training and he could easily excel in any of those areas.

“Hunter under saddle. I think he can handle at least two feet, get him to a few shows and see if anyone is interested.” She sounds bored with the prospect.

“Are you planning to sell him?” He runs the numbers in his head, wondering if he can really afford another horse.

“Not immediately, no, I want to get some use out of him first. My daughter, Ruby, needs a jumper for the show season since her other horse is lame right now. I am hoping you can have Cash’s mood adjusted enough for a show in May?” Abbadon raises a brow at him and Castiel feels his skin prickle. He hates people like this, who care about their horses as much as they care about the saddles on their backs. Disposable…replaceable.

Before Castiel can answer he spots Ellie leading Cash over, all tacked up. Cash’s eyes zone in on Abbadon right away and his nostrils flare. “Hey boss, I told Dean Decaf and Sugar look good so he’s putting them back out in the paddock.” Ellie hands over the reins with a nod, and Castiel thanks her before laying a settling hand on Cash’s neck. The horse is practically vibrating under the touch.

“Alright, Robert Redford, show me what I'm paying for,” Abbadon snarks as she heads over toward the arena.

Castiel takes a few calming breaths before he brings Cash to the arena. He catches Dean out of the corner of his eye leaned up against the barn wall. He looks ready to attack at any moment, his body guarded.

Castiel tries his best to focus on the horse and brings Cash to the arena. He starts with his normal stretches to get Cash loosened up, then works him on a lunge line so he kicks his heels a little and Cas can make sure he’s still looking good and sound. Cash settles as he works with him, and Abbadon is thankfully silent. Castiel finally mounts up and again marvels at the comfortable gaits Cash has, and how responsive to cues he is. He can think of a barn hand who is equally responsive, but he tries not to let his thoughts drift. He rides back over toward Abbadon and drops his feet from the stirrups, letting Cash stretch his neck out. He reaches the fence and swings down from the saddle.

“He’s come a long way,” Castiel smiles, knowing he still has so much more he can teach Cash given the time. This horse wants to be someone’s partner, and he deserves that bond.

“He didn’t try to kill you, that’s something I guess,” Abbadon says, raising a brow. “Can you start him over fences this week? I can bring Ruby by to try him out Saturday.”

“I really don’t think jumping Cash is a good idea, he isn’t built for it. If you look at him he has really short pasterns, and he’s very what we call upright in his front legs. It means he has very little suspension or give when landing from a jump, so his foot and tendons take all that impact much harder than a horse better built for jumping.” Castiel watches her face darken but presses on. “Jumping a horse like him is just asking for an injury. It’s not  _ if  _ he gets navicular, it’s when. I’ve seen it before, it will cripple him.”

“If I point him at a jump, will he go over it?”

“I mean, I’m sure he would if I asked him, he’s a very willing horse—”

“So you're saying he can jump?” she interrupts him.

“Yes, technically he can, but that doesn’t mean he should.” Castiel feels the frustration building.

“Then he will jump. I bought him to do a job, and this is the job he needs to do.” She gives Castiel a challenging glare.

“He’s your horse, but I won’t be jumping him, ma’am. I refuse to put him at risk under my hands.” He feels the tension rolling through him and can see Dean hovering in the background.

“And I heard you were the best around. Fine, if you won't, we will. I expect you to keep up with his training. Ruby can handle working him over fences this weekend.” Abbadon turns on her heels, marching off toward her Mercedes and peeling off down the drive, kicking up gravel in her wake.

Castiel’s shoulders slump. Maybe he could have explained it to her better, but something tells him nothing he said was gonna change her mind. He’ss going to have to come up with a game plan, and fast. Dean jogs up to him, and Castiel wants to smile 'cause his limp seems to be doing so much better the past few weeks.

“You look pissed,” Dean asks warily, approaching him.

“Frustrated is more like it.” He rubs at his eyes, trying to think of what to do next, but nothing is coming to him. Cash is not his horse, he reminds himself. He feels a hand on his shoulder then and looks up to see Dean’s vibrant green eyes staring back at him, filled with sympathy. It warms his heart, and he reminds himself not to be discouraged.

“Why don’t I get him untacked for you?” Dean offers, and Castiel watches him reach up to scratch behind Cash’s ear. The horse tilts his head for more, making Dean chuckle. He thinks he needs to find a way to keep Cash around, if for no other reason than he makes Dean smile. 

“I’d appreciate that, Dean.” He hands over the reins and watches the two retreat toward the barn. He hurries to his office, grabbing his list of kinks off the printer and neatly folding it into an envelope. He finds Dean out by Cash’s paddock turning him back out in the field and watches him jog up the hill to find a good patch of grass to eat.

“Dean,” he calls, getting his attention, “here, this is the list. I want you to take it home and go over and put some thought into it. We can talk more when you come over tonight if you have any questions, how does that sound?”

Dean takes the envelope and swallows hard. “Uh yeah, I can do that. Should I do anything before I come back?”

Castiel thinks on it a second, but eventually decides shakes his head. “No, just come as you are,” he leans in to whisper, “my good boy.” He enjoys the shiver that runs through Dean and the eager smile.

“Yes, Sir,” he replies, tucking the note into his pocket and heading off down the drive. He considers offering to drive him home, but he thinks maybe Dean needs the time alone to think. In the meantime, Castiel has preparations to make and a barn to care for.

Dean bounces from foot to foot on the front porch of Castiel’s house. He’d showered…twice, and changed his shirt four times…okay,  _ five _ . He’d gone over and over the list from Castiel and had never been so happy Sam had been working a double at the hospital, giving him the house to himself. 

He raises a hand to knock right as the door swings open, revealing a very smug-looking Castiel.

“Hello Dean.” He grins at him, and Dean wonders if he knew how long Dean had been pacing on his front porch.

“Hey Cas,” he greets him as Cas ushers him inside.

“Why don’t you go sit down at the kitchen table? I figure we can talk before we start.”

Dean thinks that sounds good and moves to the table, pulling out his list. Already the paper is a bit creased just from the afternoon of worrying at it. 

“Here.” He shoves the paper away from him and across the table to Cas like it might burn him. Mostly he just thinks the sooner he gives it over, the less likely he is to get nervous and bolt. Last night had been so easy, submitting had felt like second nature to him. Now he’s a bundle of nerves and self doubt. Can he really be what Castiel wants?

“Dean.” Castiel deep rumble pulls him from his thoughts. “Take a breath for me, okay? We won’t do anything you don’t want or that I don’t want to. The whole point of this is for both of us to find pleasure in it. There's no pressure here, right?” Dean nods, feeling his shoulders relax a bit. “Good. Now let me look at your list here.”

Castiel’s eyes scan over the page. The warm smile growing on his face has Dean relaxing even more into his seat. “I have to admit, I’m thrilled with this list. Your tastes match my own very well. I can work with this. I only have one question for you…I see you have punishment underlined?”

Dean freezes, his heart thumping. It had been one of the kinks on the list that he’d wavered on the most. He wasn’t even sure why it had sounded appealing, or why anyone would want such a thing.

“Can you tell me why you underlined that one? I know why I like it, and why I think you would, but I’d like to hear it from you.” Castiel is encouraging and Dean knows he can’t sit here silent the whole time.

“It’s hard to explain. I don’t think it’s so much the punishment that sounds appealing but the after, you know? I like paying for my debts, if I fuck up I need to know I can make it right…does that make any sense?”

“I fully agree, though I warn you that my punishments are rarely conventional.” There's a hard steel to Castiel’s voice now, and fuck if that doesn’t just make him want to stand at attention.

“Alright, let me lay the ground rules then for us. Nothing you crossed out on this list will ever come into our play. No scat, watersports, blood play, lasting damage, humiliation, degrading names, pet play, or age play. Is there anything else?”

“Um, I don’t wanna be tied up when I can’t see,” he adds, feeling a bit cowardly doing so till Cas smiles and scribbles a note on the paper.

“Duly noted. For known kinks you listed bondage, and sex toys, and for kinks you are open to trying we have orgasm delay/denial, light spanking, hand feeding, nipple play, punishment, marking, and sensory deprivation. What a lovely list.” Castiel hums in satisfaction and Dean feels a blush rise on his cheeks. “Alright lovely boy, here are my rules. One, if you need to safeword you do so, no questions asked, and you will never be punished for doing so.” Dean nods. “I need a verbal answer here, sweet boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Rule two, you will not degrade yourself. I want to hear no negative self talk or it will result in punishment.”

Dean hesitates only a second before replying, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Rule three, you will perform the tasks I ask you to do without question. If you have an earnest concern you can safeword yellow for us to discuss outside of the scene, or you can always safeword red to stop play completely. Outside of using your safeword I expect your obedience and submission.” There is that steel again, and for the life of him it only makes Dean feel…good.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Alright. Then, when you're ready, I want you to strip and leave your clothes in the mud room. I will know you are ready for play to begin when you are kneeling on the pillow by my chair.” Castiel rises and heads toward the refrigerator, while an eager Dean nearly tips out of his chair to get his clothes off. And if Castiel chuckles at him, he can’t be bothered to care.

Dean quickly strips and folds his clothes, putting them to the side before coming back into the kitchen. He sees Castiel at the counter with his back to him and he moves quietly, lowering himself onto the pillow. The kneel stretches his knees out and he sighs at the feeling, wiggling his toes and letting his muscles relax. It’s strange how much of an effort it is just to have his muscles let go, but it feels amazing. Hands resting on his thighs, he hums happily when a hand sinks into his hair, giving it a little tug.

“There’s my good boy,” Castiel hums and he sounds happy, which makes Dean smile. A hand lowers into his field of vision and he sees a bit of sandwich, maybe peanut butter and jelly, and he takes it gratefully. He knows he’s still thinner than he was before the war, but he’s felt a little more like himself every day since he found the barn, found Castiel.

“Thank you, Sir,” he says after he manages to swallow, and that earns him a happy hum and the fingers carding through his hair. Castiel feeds him a whole sandwich bit by bit, giving him sips of water in between, and he feels a warm sort of fuzziness pass over his mind.

“Alright, up with you. On the table for inspection.” Dean rises with Castiel’s help and shakes out his legs before moving to the table. He lies down on his back and hikes up his legs, feet flat on the table. He smiles at the comfy mat that Castiel had already laid out for him. Suddenly hands are on him, calluses skating over his skin and he shivers all over at the touch. Castiel’s hands stay light in pressure, just feeling over every bump and scar, tickling up his sensitive sides.

“Such a beauty,” Castiel sighs out under his breath. He spends extra time looking at Dean’s hand, which is still sore and he handles it gently. “Turn over, handsome.” Castiel gives his hip a little teasing smack that makes him jolt and huff before flipping over.

“Mmm…has anyone ever told you, you have the most perfect back side?” Castiel chuckles, a hand rubbing over the globe of Dean's ass.

His face heats a beet red as he nods. “Yes, Sir.”

Hands grip each cheek and gently pull apart. He flinches all over as Castiel blows a breath across his most sensitive skin. It’s been so, so long, and he’s never felt more empty. He whines lightly arching his back. A thumb teases over his hole and its sets his nerves on edge. He wants, he wants badly, and he can hardly remember how it felt last time he wanted so bad…but he doesn’t think it felt like this. This feels light and floaty and like all his normally sharp edges are softer somehow.

“I think we’re going to have to fill you up properly.” Castiel chuckles as Dean enthusiastically nods at that, sticking out his ass just a little higher. “Not tonight though, my sweet, needy boy.”

He whimpers as the hands roll up his back and across his shoulders, the touch so soothing but not where he wants it. Still he keeps silent, desire to be a good boy coursing through him.

“Are you ready for a challenge?” Castiel asks, tapping on his cheek so Dean turns to look at him.

“Yes, Sir. I’m ready, Sir.” 

“Repeat your safewords for me.” Castiel’s face is all steel making him swallow hard.

“Red for stop, yellow to slow down.” He’d actually recited those in his head on the way over. He understood enough to know that the safeword was his safety net. Knowing they were there just gave him a kind of freedom.

“Mmmm, very good boy.” Hands reach under his shoulders, guiding him up. “Hold out your wrists for me.” Dean obediently holds out his hands, watching as Castiel grabs a pair of soft leather cuffs and begins to buckle them around him. He turns them over, looking at the soft worn leather with two D rings on them. Castiel then takes out a cord of white rope and knots the rings on his cuffs together. It’s a simple knot, and Dean can see where it would easily come undone if he tugs on the tail of the rope. 

“Follow me, handsome.” Castiel leads Dean over to the couch and sits on one end while Dean lies down on his back, head pillowed on Castiel’s lap. Dean shifts and wiggles a little till he is comfortable, then peers up over his head to see Cas smiling at him. He can’t fathom what he’s done to deserve that look but he wants to keep doing it.

“Is this okay, Sir?” he asks, holding out his hands, unsure what to do with them.

“Put those over your head across my lap. I am going to tie your hands now. Remember your safewords, sweet boy.” Castiel pulls up another rope from the side of the couch—that Dean assumes is connected to the foot of the couch—and he watches upside down as Castiel ties the two together. Dean gives a little tug, but it’s very secure.

“Look at you, all gorgeous and laid out for me,” Castiel all but purrs, a hand skating over Dean’s bare chest as he licks at his lips in anticipation.

“Now all you have to do for me is lay there and let me play with you a bit. If you feel like you’re going to come, I want you to tell me before you do. You are not to come without permission, do you understand?”

Dean swallows hard a lump stuck in his throat. “I um, I don’t know, Sir.”

“What don’t you know, sweet boy?” Castiel’s voice is steady as a rock, but his eyes are inviting and kind and Dean reminds himself that this is Castiel.

He takes a long deep breath in. “I don’t know if I will get hard or uh, get off at all, Sir. Since…” he has to stop taking another breath as Castiel patiently waits. “I haven’t really been able to get hard much, since I came back from my last tour. I’ve only, you know, finished a few times.” He leaves out the part about one of those times being in Castiel’s shower.

“Thank you, my perfect boy. I know that’s hard to talk about, and I am so proud of you.” Castiel curls down and plants a soft, warm kiss on his lips, and god, he’s been waiting to feel that soft pink skin for what feels like ages. “It’s perfectly fine if you do not get hard or if you do not come, your only rule is not to come until I say so.” Dean relaxes at those words. Knowing he won’t disappoint Cas takes a huge weight off his chest.

Castiel flips on the TV, turning it to some documentary about honey bees. Dean frowns at the screen, confused, and misses when a slicked up hand wraps around his cock. He gasps and arches up slightly at the surprising touch. Castiel only chuckles and begins lazily stroking and swirling his fingers around his half-hard cock. He glances up to see Cas watching the TV, hand idly playing with him. He lets his eyes slip closed and just focuses on the delicious light pulling and teasing along his shaft. A finger swirls around the head, teasing just by the bundle of nerves, and he feels it as his cock gets harder and harder with each pass. He’s panting a little now and rocking his hips up and down to meet Castiel’s stroke.

“S’good,” he slurs out, and god, he hasn’t had anyone else's hand on his cock like this in far too long. Castiel is skilled, hand dipping down with a finger massaging at the base, making his cock twitch with each little prod toward his prostate. He whines at the thought of how much better it would feel with a finger in him.

“Good boy. Don’t forget to warn me if you're close,” Castiel hums, hand gripping a little tighter.

Dean nods, “Y-yes Sir, OH!” he yelps on a strong sure stroke up that has his balls tightening up. He can’t believe how close he is to coming so fast. “I…um.” He tries to form words, but it's hard to focus when Castiel’s hand is doing what it's doing and someone on the TV is talking about habitat changes and he thinks he’s about to lose his mind if he doesn’t come. “I’m g-gonna come!” he all but shouts out.

Castiel’s hand immediately lets him go and he can’t believe he’s so close, so close, and then cut off at the edge. “No, no please Sir, please touch me.” He can’t believe he’s begging already but he needs that hand back on him.

“Shhh, shhh, good boy, you're doing so well for me. I am so happy with you.” Castiel’s voice is a thick rumble as that hand splays out on his chest, grounding him. Through the haze of arousal he registers that he was good, he did just what he was supposed to do. It floods him with a sense of good, and worthy, and safe. The strong hand follows the rise and fall of his chest till he can’t feel the pulse in his cock anymore. Deft fingers move again, only now circling his nipples, teasing around them and tugging at them till they're stiffened peaks. His cock stands like a flag in the air.

“Same rules, sweetheart,” Cas whispers to him before his hand holds Dean’s cock again. Dean begins to lose track of time. Castiel brings him to the brink two more times, and each time ends the same with Dean calling out and then begging for the hand to return. He’s mad with the need to come, he’s never needed anything like he needs that…except for the need to be good. He keeps a mantra in his head,  _ be good, be good, be good _ . Slipping down deep into a fuzzy space he is good, he is so good, and Cas has him, Cas will take care of him, it's all okay, it's amazing, it's perfect, and—

“Come for me, sweet boy,” Castiel’s voice cracks through to his mind and with a final pull he’s coming. His body shakes as his hands pull on the cuffs, babbling out words. It feels like a full body release. It’s a weightless falling kind of feeling as his cock feebly twitches out a few more times, and his head sags into the firm lap underneath him.

He floats like that—as if he’s deep underwater where no one can get him, no can hurt him, only Cas is there, a warm anchor in the depths. He feels his arms moving down and a muffled voice uttering soft words he can’t make out. He feels something wet across his stomach that makes him flinch, but his eyes stay shut in his warm, safe little space. Something soft is covering his skin, and hands cup his face.

He blinks awake sometime later and looks up into cool blue eyes. “Hey there, my sweet boy, are you back with me?”

He nods and arches his back, stretching out. “How long was I out?”

“Hmm not too long, half hour maybe.” Castiel’s hand cards through his hair, making his eyes flutter shut again.

“Must’ve been that boring documentary that put me out.” He smiles and nuzzles closer into Castiel’s stomach, seeking his warmth.

Castiel chuckles warmly and it makes his head shake in his lap. “Yes, it was definitely the documentary, couldn’t possibly have been anything else.”

“Feel good,” he mumbles again, thinking that going to sleep sounds like a great idea.

“Come on sweet boy, will you sit up for me? I need you to drink and eat a little, then we can go to bed.” Castiel guides him up, and he feels almost wobbly so he leans against Castiel’s side. Castiel manages to get him to drink some orange juice and have a few pieces of chocolate before he’s bundling Dean up in his arms and carrying him up the stairs.

“I can walk,” Dean says, but can’t help burrowing a little closer to Castiel’s chest, smelling the familiar scent of pine.

“I know you can, but you don’t have to. You were so good, Dean. What a beautiful man you are,” Castiel praises him before laying him on the bed. Dean wiggles down and drifts off to sleep before Cas even manages to flick off the light.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends!  
So I know that was a really long break between chapters (I wish there was some way for me to talk to you guys and give an update when I can't post), but I am back in action with a new chapter for you. I wish I could have written this chapter faster but writing this fic takes a lot of time and care to get it just right and so its been slower for me to write. This on top of life simply being chaotic! Side bar, one of the busy life things was my horse Artex decided to cut his leg in the paddock and need 6 stitches (which this is the first time in 19 years owning him he needed stitches). needless to say it was a stressful two weeks dealing with an injured boy. He is completely back to normal minus the big shaved spot on his leg and I finally found the time to write this chapter. See I brought it all back around. Now I am sure if you are reading this you and you are telling me to just get on with it already so without further ado, Chapter 8!  
<3  
See you in the comments!

_ "For one to fly, one needs only to take the reins.” - Melissa James _

Dean tips his face up to the sun, the heat of it warming his cheeks. It’s a beautiful day, and he draws in a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs till they almost ache before letting it out. He feels alive. He thinks it might be too good to be true, and maybe it is. He knows all that darkness is still in him, waiting to drown him again. But for now- in this moment, he can finally breathe.

“Hurry up, slowpoke.” Ellie rolls her eyes at him and hands him the lead rope for Lou. The horse narrows his eyes at Dean and he can tell he’s being sized up.

“Don’t get any ideas, you menace,” he warns as he leads the ornery gelding to his paddock. He gets Lou into his paddock and the horse only tries to bite him once, which he counts as a win. 

He wipes sweat from his brow, wondering when the days had started to get so warm. He checks his watch and it’s not even nine yet. He does the math in his head of how many hours he has until his scene with Cas. 

Giving up that control to Cas had been utterly addicting. Just for a little while he’d been safe and wanted, and he could push all that pain away. He tried not to think about how nice it was just waking up with Castiel either. Having breakfast together and talking about movies and telling stories. He really liked just being with Cas—even if they were just sitting in silence at the kitchen table, it just felt right.

The only worry on his mind this week has been his brother Sam. He’s been working more hours, coming home looking more and more ragged. He seems to be brooding on something and Dean wonders if it's just that he’s finally paying attention to it, if it's something new. Sam hasn’t tried to push Dean at all, not to watch TV, or talk, or eat—he just seems a bit blank. Dean chalks it up to working too much and likely needing sleep, though maybe he should try and do something with with Sam tomorrow since they both have the day off. That is, if Sam hasn’t taken more overtime. 

He heads back toward the arena where Castiel is lunging Cash. He leans against the top rail, watching as Cash bucks and tugs on the line. Castiel stands his ground, waiting out the tantrum Cash is throwing. Dean can’t help but smile, watching Cash pin his ears and kick up dust. Castiel gives an annoyed eye roll but even he is smiling too. The horse breaks to a trot, finally floating over the arena footing with his tail up like a flag.

“You're a Quarter Horse, not an Arabian, Cash,” Castiel mutters, laughing as the horse bounces around him, nostrils flaring.

“He’s full of it today,” Dean calls. 

When Castiel spies Dean by the fence his face breaks into a warm smile. “You could say that. It's why I wanted to get him out for a little this morning.” Castiel digs his heels in as Cash bucks and runs on the line again. All that muscle and power is just mesmerizing, and the horse is pretty impressive too.

Dean hangs out watching them work, wondering if he could ever become a good enough rider to get on Cash. He thinks it would take a lot of work—Cas already told him that a novice rider and a green horse are a bad combo. Still, someday it might be nice. 

He jumps a little when a short teenage girl pops up next to him. Her dark brown hair is tied back in a low ponytail and her eyes are narrowed at Castiel and Cash. Cash’s owner, the fierce redhead, comes up next to them as well, hand firmly planted on her hip.

“Castiel! Bring Cash in, will you? Ruby is going to work with him,” Abby calls out, “Come now, let's see which bit we should try on him.” The two leave without so much as a glance at Dean and he feels his stomach twist at the idea of them handling Cash. 

Castiel approaches, leading the golden gelding behind him.

“Cas, is this a good idea?” Dean asks, stepping into line next to him.

“No, of course not. He isn’t my horse, Dean, she owns him, and unless she steps over the line and hurts him I can’t stop her from having access to him.” Castiel sounds weary as he leads the horse toward the barn.

“But she’s a jerk. She doesn’t deserve him,” Dean protests, running a hand on the gelding's soft, silky coat.

“Which is exactly why I am not gonna leave her alone with him,” Castiel whispers. “I plan to be there every second and if they put a toe out of line I’ll step in…trust me.”

Dean bites his lower lip. He wants to trust Cas, but really he doesn’t think he has much choice. “I trust you,” he finally replies, just hoping Cas is right.

“Why don’t you go grab Decaf and we can do a lesson? You need to practice your posting anyway.” Castiel gives him a wink.

“You just want a chance to boss me around,” he laughs.

“So what if I am? Hop to it, stable boy,” Castiel chuckles and swats at Dean’s butt as he jumps away.

“Jerk,” he mutters but he can’t keep the smile off his face. He leaves to go catch Decaf who is up grazing in the lower field. He’s truly a gentle horse, if not a little lazy. When he gets to the barn to tack up, it's empty, Cash and his owners are already out at the arena. He hurries a bit to brush Decaf off and get him tacked up before going out there.

“Tighten up on the reins, Ruby, you need to drive him forward,” he hears the bark of Abby’s voice as he approaches the arena. Cash is tacked up in a smaller English saddle and bridle, head tucked in and barreling around the arena at an impressive trot. Cas meets him by the mounting block and checks that the tack is good before helping Dean on.

He tries not to stare at Cash and Ruby as they work around the arena. Maybe the daughter won’t be as terrible as the mom. He rides to the center of the ring, making a small circle around Castiel as he discusses how to post. Basically he just needs to sit up out of the saddle and sit back down in time with the horse's stride. Sure…piece of cake. After just a few minutes of posting, however, his thighs are burning and his calves are aching.

“That's it, shoulders back and sit up straight, don’t lean forward. Good, now remember you aren’t crashing back down into the saddle, you just barely come down and touch before you go back up.” Castiel has his teaching voice on and Dean tries to do just what he says.

“Man, this is hard,” he groans, muscles protesting.

“It is a good work out,” Castiel agrees, smiling up at him, darting glances at Ruby and Cash as they ride around. “Okay, you can sit and catch your breath.”

Dean sits down, relieved, and wipes at his brow.

“Two cross rails over there and one oxer over here,” Ruby calls to her mother and Abby moves to begin setting up a few jumps. Dean cringes, remembering what Castiel had said about Cash jumping.

“Cas,” he turns beginning to ask but Cas just shakes his head.

“It’s alright, Dean, he won’t get hurt on one jump. It's more long term jumping that would be hard on him,” Castiel reassures him. 

Dean’s hands grip the reins as he watches Ruby pick up a canter, circling the far end of the ring. Cash’s tail is wringing a bit as she chokes up on the rein pushing him on. Dean's heart feels like it's beating in time with every stride that Cash takes, hooves lifting lighter as he pushes faster forward. The girl growls at him with a few hard smacks of the crop. Ruby sits up in the saddle, hands gripping his mane as Cash charges for the jump, and right as he approaches the rails he slams on the brakes. His front end dips down and Ruby goes soaring over the jump and through the air, before landing with a hard thump on the ground.

“Holy shit,” Dean gawks as Castiel runs to catch Cash who has trotted away and is now trying to reach the grass through the fence. Abby runs to her daughter and seems to be easing her to her feet, cradling her arm.

“Wretched horse,” Ruby squawks with an angry scowl on her face. “He broke my arm!”

Abby gives a menacing glare at Castiel as he leads Cash over to them. “He’s just as dangerous as the day I left him here. Some horse trainer you are—look what that terror did my daughter.” Abby is fuming and Dean is almost surprised there isn’t actual smoke coming out the woman’s ears. Dean grips the reins, about ready to ride over there and give this woman a piece of his mind when Castiel speaks up.

“I told you I had not jumped him, I told you I would not jump him. I taught him the basics of carrying a rider and he’s made amazing progress. It's not Cash’s fault he doesn’t know how to do what you are asking him.” Castiel stands a little in front of Cash, almost like he’s guarding the horse.

“And whose fault is it that he wasn’t trained, hmm? I am the owner here, I spend good money to get what I want and if you can’t make that happen I will find someone who will!” Abby turns on her heels, dragging her scowling daughter along behind her. 

Dean slowly rides up to Castiel, who looks like the color is draining out of his face. “Cas?”

Blue eyes look up at him and he sees they are just a bit glossy. Without thinking, he leaps down from Decaf and reels Cas tightly into his arms. He feels the shuddering breath Cas lets out and the tight grip he has on Dean's shirt. He stands there holding Cas for a few minutes, wishing desperately there was something he could do. Eventually Cas reluctantly pulls away, giving Dean a soft sad smile.

“Sorry for that, I just…I hate this part of the job,” he sighs, putting his face in his hands. Cash bumps his nose against Cas' shoulder making him chuckle. “I know, buddy, it's not your fault.”

“What's gonna happen?” Dean has to ask 'cause it feels like ripping off a band aid and he wants to get it over with.

“Well, if she means what she said, she will likely move Cash back to her other barn, or find a different trainer to work with him over fences. It wouldn’t be hard to find. Best case would be she sells him to an owner who can appreciate him,” Castiel pats the horse's neck and twirls a finger around his long black mane.

“I don’t want him to go,” Dean says without even thinking. He’s grown attached to Cash even in such a short time. He just doesn’t want to lose anyone else.

“Neither do I.” Castiel reaches out and squeezes Dean’s shoulder. “Would you mind taking that jump down over there and just laying the poles together on the ground?”

Dean quirks his brow at him but leads Decaf with him as he goes to drop the poles down. He turns to see Castiel has mounted up on Cash and is walking him toward the poles. He watches as Cas slowly walks him toward them. Cash lowers his head sniffing at them a moment. Cas gently urges him on and Cash takes a few huge, hopping steps over the poles. Cas praises him and turns around, coming back over the poles and repeats this several times, Cash getting more at ease each time, before he finally jumps down.“Why did you do that?” Dean has to ask.

“I didn’t want him thinking he could refuse an obstacle like that. They shouldn’t have pushed him to jump so big so soon or asked him at all. But they did, and they didn’t follow through. I just didn’t want this to set him back.” 

Dean nods in understanding. 

They lead the horses back into the barn and untack, a thick silence settling between them, both in their own head. It's not uncomfortable though—being around Cas never is for Dean. 

They work in tandem to get the afternoon chores done in record time. Rowena comes to ride along with a few local kids when they get off school. Dean tries not to worry about Cash but it's nearly impossible. The idea of him being gone and Dean not knowing where he is makes his stomach turn.

Late afternoon comes fast and Dean is heading toward the drive when arms wrap around him from behind, pulling him in close to a firm, hard back. “You’ve had a hard day Dean, are you still feeling up to a scene?” Castiel’s breath ghosts over his ear, making him he suck in a startled breath.

“Yes, I am, I really really am,” he answers enthusiastically.

“Good, I am looking forward to taking care of my good boy. Why don’t you go inside and take a nice long, hot shower. Then I want you on the table waiting for inspection.” Castiel’s lips brush over the soft skin behind his ear and Dean chuckles a little nervously, feeling his cock suddenly taking an interest.

“Yes sir,” he whispers back and Castiel lets him go with a little squeeze to the back of his neck.

Dean nearly trips over himself in his haste to get into the house, ignoring the chuckles behind his back. He hurries out of his boots and up the stairs, body vibrating in anticipation. He barely feels the twinge in his calf as he makes it to the bathroom and turns the water on to start heating up. It feels good to strip off the sweaty clothes from his skin. It reminds him a bit of being in the desert, long days patrolling on foot in heavy gear. He’d always been desperate to wash the sand and sweat away.

He steps under the spray and lets out an indecent moan as the warm water rushes over him. He only gives himself a minute of stillness under the spray before he hurries to grab the soap and finish washing up. Toweling off, he feels a bit nervous walking down the stairs naked so he keeps a towel wrapped around his waist. He can see that Castiel has drawn the curtains, though, and he can hear rustling around in the mudroom.

Pulling out the mat from the closet, he lays it down on the large table before he folds up his towel and lowers himself into position. He can hear Castiel moving around and eventually heading upstairs. He wonders where he went till he hears the shower running. Shifting his hips, he pulls his feet up a little higher till he's more comfortable and lets his eyes slip closed. His body settles and he lets his mind go a moment, trusting Cas will come take care of him. He jolts sometime later when he feels a hand land on his shoulder.

“Shhh, handsome, it’s just me,” Castiel’s honey warm voice greets him and he immediately settles. “Let me see how my boy is doing.”

Castiel still slightly damp hands move around his throat, fingers pressing down on the long lines of his neck. He sighs a little tipping his head back as those long fingers work over his shoulders and begin tracing over every inch of him. “Anything especially sore today?”

“No sir,” Dean shakes his head, a little sucking in a breath as Castiel’s hands roll over the curve of his hips.

“Hmm how about here?” Castiel’s fingers move down his groin and dig into the sensitive muscles of his inner thigh. He lets out a low groan as Castiel massages and works on the tense muscle. He didn’t even realize how sore he was there. “Thought these might be a bit tense. It takes a while to build up good riding muscles.”

Dean nods, feeling incredibly vulnerable as Castiel pushes his legs further apart. A hand wraps around his cock and his eyes spring open to stare down at the man between his legs. Castiel is smiling at him, hair damp and rumpled, looking every bit the sex god he is. He takes in the man's soft white t-shirt and simple grey sleep pants. A lot of the time Dean can’t believe Castiel is real and not something he made up in his head. He feels his cock begin to thicken even in the loose hold Castiel has on him.

“I would like to try some new things with you tonight,” Castiel muses, fingers slowly stroking him and dipping down to gently cradle his balls. He swallows hard trying his best to listen which is extremely hard to do when Castiel’s skilled hand is working him over. “I want to bind you, make you bend for me, surrender to me. Will you give me that Dean? Will you give me your pleasure?” 

Dean gasps at an especially firm twist of his dom's hand.

“Yes!” he answers, voice cracking, “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Now, most importantly, you are not allowed to come till I say so. Do you understand?” Castiel asks sternly and Dean nods with a quick “yes sir.” He thinks holding off tonight will be especially difficult. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I plan to help you,” Castiel replies as if reading his mind. He reaches into a box Dean hadn’t noticed and pulls out a simple cock ring. He rolls it over Dean’s cock swiftly till it's snug against him, pulling down the other ring to wrap around his balls. It feels surprisingly good, if not a little intense as he feels his hard cock straining against the pressure.

“Good boy. Now come and stand for me.” Castiel guides Dean to sitting up and offers him a hand as he stands up on slightly wobbly legs. He feels a kind of loose, drunk feeling to his limbs when Castiel has him this way.

Castiel then reaches back into the box, pulling out a cluster of straps of leather. Dean eyes it with interest but keeps his questions in, waiting to see what Castiel is going to do.

“Color, Dean?” Castiel asks firmly as he tips his head up to meet his eyes.

“Green, sir,” Dean nods, the curiosity killing him.

“Arms out straight in front of you,” Castiel commands and Dean quickly complies. He watches as Cas slips his arms through two loops and over his head. He shivers at the touch of the leather to his bare skin, watching as Castiel adjusts everything to just the right spot. Dean isn’t sure what that right spot is, but Cas seems to know and he has that furrowed brow look he gets when he is really concentrating. Dean resists the urge to lean forward and kiss him till his face softens.

Castiel nudges his feet apart and begins wrapping straps around each thigh, snuggly resting them under each cheek. The smooth pull of buckles begins to tighten each part and he takes a deep breath just to feel the pull and hold of the harness. He isn’t sure why but it feels really good, really safe somehow.

Castiel steps up till he is right in Dean’s face, only a breath apart. Dean feels his hand reach behind him and grasp something by his shoulder blades, giving it a little pull. “Do you feel that, my boy? Do you know what that is?” He swallows hard, trying to think, but just shakes his head. “That is a handle, so I can hold you right where I want you,” Castiel whispers in his low growl.

“Oh fuck,” Dean breaths out, feeling a little lightheaded as he imagines just what that could entail.

“Soon,” Castiel chuckles, taking a step back. He reaches back into the box, coming to Dean with leather wrist and ankle cuffs and a long coil of rope. “Follow me,” Castiel loosely grabs Dean’s wrist and leads him up the stairs. He clenches his jaw at the feeling of the harness pulling on his skin and his hard, restrained cock bobbing before him.

When he gets to Castiel’s bedroom he sees the blankets all folded up at the end of the bed and the pillows pushed against the headboard. He feels his Dom move behind him and wrap his arms tight around him, chin resting on his shoulder. “Alright, sweet boy, since you’re 're fairly new at this I am going to tell you exactly what I plan to do with you.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean answers eyeing the bed, wondering if Cas is finally gonna fuck him. It’s been so long he’s a bit worried he won’t be able to relax enough, but damn if he isn’t gonna try.

“I am going to put you on your knees on that bed, then I am going to tie your upper body to that ring up there in the ceiling. Then I will bind your hands and your legs so you are at the perfect level for me to fill all your needy holes... What color, Dean?”

Dean lets out a groan at those words, dropping his head back to rest on Castiel’s shoulder. He wants it, he wants all of that so bad, to just surrender like that, to not have to carry this heavy weight anymore. To know that Castiel has him, won’t let him fall. He believes that as scary as it feels to give up control, he knows deep down he can trust Cas.

“Green, Sir. Please tie me up,” he answers, turning to stare into those blue eyes, hoping they see the truth in his own.

“Always,” Castiel replies before moving Dean toward the bed and having him kneel up in the middle of it, facing the headboard. He sifts a rope through a ring in the harness near his left shoulder and stands to pull the rope through the ring in the ceiling, before he adjusts and ties it to a ring by his right shoulder blade. “Lean against that, how does it feel?” Castiel asks, and Dean leans forward, resting his upper body weight against the ropes.

“Feels good, sir,” he nods, flushing a little at his bent over position, leaving his ass in the air.

“So beautiful for me,” Castiel hums almost to himself. He then quickly pulls a rope through a ring on the harness at Dean's chest. Taking both ends, he runs them in between Dean's legs and proceeds to tie them to his ankles, keeping him from being able to straighten up, while the rope in the ceiling keeps him from falling forward.

“Last part, I am going to tie your hands behind your back. The rope in the ceiling will stop you from falling forward. I promise it will hold you.” Castiel watches Dean’s face for any sign of fear, but he isn’t feeling any. Castiel smiles then, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Just a soft soothing brush of lips before he maneuvers Dean’s hands to his lower back and ties them to a ring sitting just over his hips.

Dean is well and truly tied now. He tests the bonds, pulling on legs a little, tugging at his arms and leaning heavier into the harness. He hears a soft laugh and looks up at Castiel, who grins at him. “You aren’t going anywhere, handsome, not till I take what I want.”

The words have his cock twitching and he licks his lips, staring up at Castiel through his lashes, seeing raw lust cross the man’s face.

Cas moves behind him then, keeping a hand on his hip. He shifts around for a few seconds before Dean feels a slick finger sliding down his crack and toward his hole. He gasps at the sensation as the finger rubs back and forth over him. A shiver rolls over his whole body at the touch.

“Easy, I have you,” Castiel soothes, a warm hand on his hip. Dean relaxes into the restraints and lets his head go, just letting himself feel. Castiel is slow, teasing his hole before dipping in just a little and pulling out. Dean relaxes more and more with each push, letting his body welcome Cas in. Lips pepper kisses over the round of his cheeks as suddenly Cas is pumping two fingers into him. Fingers brush over his prostate and Dean feels his cock get almost painfully hard.

“Hmm, so responsive for me, such a good sub,” Castiel praises and it makes Dean's chest feel warm.

Castiel’s fingers retreat before something different is pushing at his hole. He turns his head to look around but he can’t see anything. Something harder and flared is slowly twisted into him till it sinks into place at what must be a flared head. It isn’t very large, he’s certainly had bigger but with how long it's been, he’s glad for its size. 

“How does that plug feel, handsome?”

“Mmmm, fuck, feels full sir.” He arches his back, clenching down on the plug that's stuffing his hole. Breathing deep, his body strains against the leather. Right as his body goes limp into the straps he feels Castiel hit a little switch, and the plug begins to vibrate, low and steady. He can’t help but groan and rock in his restraints. Thighs shaking, he gasps for breath.

“You can take it, just breathe, right, like that. Slow breaths,” Castiel coaches him till he finally settles into the stimulation rocking through his body.

“Cas,” he calls out and he isn’t sure why, he isn’t ready to safeword but he just needs to see him, to ground him.

“Right here, handsome, I’m right here.” Castiel’s voice is slow and easy and it settles him as the man crawls up the bed till he’s in front of Dean. He looks up to see a warm, smiling face and that small twinge of nerves dissipates. He can do this if Cas thinks he can.

“What's your color, Dean?” he asks, searching Dean’s face.

“G-green sir,” he replies, licking his lips.

Castiel then grabs a small, jingly looking cat toy and leans over to place it in Dean’s bound hands. “Shake this for yellow, and drop it for red, do you understand?”

Dean isn’t sure why he will need it but he nods all the same. 

“Good, then open your mouth nice and wide for me.”

Dean’s eyes go wide but he instantly obeys, and watches as Castiel shifts down his sleep pants and pulls out his incredibly hard cock. He feels sorta desperate for it, to be able to give Castiel pleasure and make him feel good. It's suddenly all he wants as he rocks forward, mouth open and waiting.

“So eager,” Cas chuckles before gripping Dean's face and guiding his cock into his mouth. It's warm and heavy and the velvety soft skin feels so good. He moans, wrapping his lips around the shaft and giving a light suck. Castiel makes a small choking sound above him before he starts pumping in and out of his mouth with an increasing rhythm. Dean gives up trying to be an active participant and just lets Cas fuck into his mouth. It feels incredible, to be so bound and so full and completely consumed.

“Oh god, look at how hot you are, all filled up and needy for me, aren’t you? You're mine, all mine, I have every inch of you, and you're so perfect, so fucking perfect,” Castiel is babbling above him and the praise feels like a godsend, feels like he’s enough, like for once he isn’t a fuck up. He moans, feeling the vibration hit the cock bumping against the back of his throat. Castiel lets out a gasp, sinking his hand into Dean’s hair and pulling him closer. Dean chokes a little before he drags in a breath and it's so hot and so sinful he thinks he might die right here just from the overwhelming arousal.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna come, baby. You gonna swallow it all down for me?” Castiel asks and Dean nods his head best he can without letting Castiel’s cock go. “My good boy, so good, so gorgeous and brave and strong and oh fuck,” Castiel groans as he comes, cock pulsing on Dean’s tongue, his mouth filling with the salty come. He swallows it down, feeling Castiel jerk and the hand tighten in his hair. He hums softly, licking and sucking at the now softening cock, whimpering a little shamelessly when Cas finally pulls it out.

Castiel quickly unties the rope from his chest to his legs and then the rope holding him up and guides him back to sitting on his heels while Cas is kneeling behind him. He settles back into the hold, letting out little breathy gasps as the vibration from the plug shifts, hitting his prostate.

“Oh god, sir, I’m gonna come, sir, sir,” he whimpers, pleading, needing the release but needing more than anything for his Dom to give it to him. It's his Dom's pleasure and that just feels right. He wants Cas to draw the orgasm from him.

“I have you, baby,” Castiel croons and a slick hand wraps around his bound cock and begins to stroke up and down while his other hand wraps around his chest, hand gripping the leather and holding him in a beautiful backward arch. Castiel’s lips kiss and suck and bite at his neck and shoulder and it’s all consuming now. Right when he thinks he can’t stand another minute he hears those glorious three words whispered in his ear, “Come for me.” He does, he comes hard, shooting off with a powerful orgasm rocking up through his balls and it feels like he’s being utterly drained.

He can’t help but sink back limply into Castiel’s arms, letting the man catch him and hold him as his body shakes with the aftershocks. Castiel switches off the vibrator and Dean sighs with relief from the stimulation. He finally feels his breath steady as Cas' hand strokes over his hair. “Good boy, so good for me. Are you ready to get all this off?”

He nods shakily as Castiel begins unbuckling everything and gets Dean to stand on shaky feet. He makes sure Dean is steady before he quickly strips the dirty cover sheet off the bed and gets Dean to lie back down. He feels a bit like putty right now, quite sure that Cas could bend and move him however he likes and he would just stay there. He watches lazily as Cas goes to the bathroom, coming back with a cup of water and a warm, wet washcloth. Dean drinks while Castiel wipes him down, peppering his skin with the occasional kiss.

Every touch is like a balm to his soul, making him feel warm and safe. “S’good,” he mumbles as Castiel eventually sheds his tee shirt and crawls into bed with him, pulling up the blankets over them. Dean thinks he should maybe be a bit embarrassed but he can’t bring himself to care as he lays his head down on Castiel’s chest and slings an arm and leg over him. He doesn’t want to ever let this man go.

“Rest for a little, my good boy, then I will feed you, hmm?” Castiel’s voice is a warm rumble from his chest.

“Y-y-yes sir,” he replies on a yawn, eyes closing as he drifts off to sleep.

Dean wakes some time later to see it's fully dark outside and Castiel is carding his fingers through Dean’s hair, absentmindedly. Once Cas sees he is up they both dress and head downstairs to find dinner. Cas holds his hand the whole way down and he isn’t sure if they are still in a scene until he gestures at the large pillow to be the chair. Dean happily sinks down onto it without argument. Castiel has long, cheesy breadsticks he reheats with some pizza and though it's messy and gets everywhere, they both end up laughing and eventually getting full.

“Alright, my good boy, I think that's end scene for us. Do you want to pick a movie to watch?”

“Well, yeah. You should not be left to pick the entertainment,” Dean scoffs, getting up off his pillow and stretching out his arms. Castiel just shrugs and Dean smiles, pecking him on the cheek before going to check his phone. He sees a few missed calls from Sam and a voice mail. He quickly clicks it to listen.

_ “D-d-dean… Dean you gonna be hooome for dinners? Cuz I thought you’d be homes but, is okay, okay. Bye.” _

He listens to the message one more time but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to determine Sam is drunk. His brother never drinks to the point of drunk though, except for…shit.

“Cas? What's the date today?”

Cas turns to the calendar up in the kitchen. “Um, it's the fifteenth. Why?”

“Fuck, I gotta get home.” He can’t believe he forgot, how could he possibly have been so out of it he didn’t know it was the fifteenth already? 

“What's going on?” Castiel asks, looking alarmed.

“It's just, it's a bad day for Sammy and I shouldn’t leave him alone, I shouldn’t have left him alone.” Dean is mentally kicking himself as he hops into his boots.

“Is he alright?”

Dean hesitates a moment. “He will be.” It's the best answer he can give because he isn’t gonna let it be any other way.

“Call me please, let me know you are both okay?” Castiel sounds worried and agitated and Dean hates leaving him this way.

He takes the few strides over to the other man and pulls him in for one last kiss, letting it soothe his raw nerves. “I’ll text, okay? And I'll see you tomorrow night?”

Castiel nods and smiles. “Yes of course. Go on now.”

Dean turns and jogs out the door. He high tails it home at a light jog, wishing he’d thought to have Cas drive him. He stands on the back porch for a moment collecting himself before he opens the door to the kitchen. He doesn’t have to track his brother down. Sam sits slumped in his chair, leaning over the kitchen table. There's a slew of pictures all over the table, wrinkled and worn. His long hair is covering his face and there's a mostly empty bottle of whiskey next to him.

Dean’s own heart aches as he slowly approaches the table to see the smiling blonde looking back up at him. Jess had been so beautiful, so striking, she had kinda reminded Dean of his mom a little. “Why’d you go?” Sam’s hiccuping voice breaks the silence, a long finger trailing over one of the polaroids. “I’m so sorry,” Sam says barely above a whisper and Dean manages to lunge and catch Sam right before he face plants on the table. 

He knows the Winchesters are in for a long and difficult night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All!  
I know it has been many weeks since I last posted. I have been overloaded with work and then the Covid crisis so it just took me longer to get this pulled together. I am however really excited to share this with you. There is a trigger warning for this chapter, that I will put in the end notes. I hope you are all staying safe and healthy my friends <3  
CB
> 
> **** TRIGGER WARNING SEE END NOTES ****

_ "The creaking was every song I’d ever heard about war and battle; the horses clopping along, the drumbeat. All those stories must have ended this same way, with someone tired going home from a field full of death, but no one ever sang this part." — Naomi Novik _

Dean has felt helpless before. It's not an unfamiliar emotion, but it is by far one of the worst. It takes a massive effort just to get his drunken brother from the kitchen to the couch. Sam mumbles and mutters about Jess the whole way there, his voice just as cracked and vulnerable as it had been that night.

Dean had been visiting Sam, and took him out to celebrate his high MCAT score and Dean making it back from his first tour overseas. They’d said goodnight, and Dean was waiting to grab a cab when he heard the yelling. He looked up to see fire pouring out of the top story window. It had been an accident—they’d found out later the curling iron had fallen on a pile of laundry.

The rest was mostly a blur of bolting into the house and dragging Sam away from the raging inferno his old Victorian had become. 

Jess was gone…burned away. Their mother’s ring had been burning its own hole in Sam’s pocket. It was the second worst night of the Winchester’s lives…well, up to that point. That had been years ago, but he knew Sam still carried around that engagement ring with him every day. Sam always kept such a brave face on, that Dean sometimes forgets just how bad his little brother could be hurting too.

“Drink this.” Dean shoves a glass of water into Sam’s hand. Sam only blinks at the cup, letting out a loud scoffing sound and dropping it on the floor.

“Dun need water Deeean, need reals drinks,” he slurs, pushing haphazardly at Dean’s shoulder.

“You're a handsie drunk, you know that?” he grumbles to himself as he picks up the spilled water cup.

“Am not,” Sam replies, flopping back against the couch. He then proceeds to kick at Dean like a bratty child with his feet, trying to push him off the couch. “I dun neeeed you.” Sam continues his useless efforts as Dean bats his feet away.

“Enough, alright? Just sit still, you child.” Dean gets up and grabs a fresh cup of water for round two. Resting his hands on the counter a moment, he tries to stop them from shaking before he goes back to the living room. He suddenly desperately wishes Cas was there. He feels that drowning, sinking feeling closing in on him, and Cas is like a life vest.

He finds Sam slumped low, holding something clasped tight in his hands. Dean knows what it is, but doesn’t mention it. It takes a lot of coaxing, but he manages to get Sam to drink some water before he curls up on his side, clutching the small box to his chest.

Dean doesn’t know what to do, so he plants himself on the floor cross-legged with his back against the couch. He reaches over and pulls the waste bin close to Sam’s head, figuring it will come in handy later. 

“Shudda saved her,” Sam gasps out, and Dean glances up to see his brother's face flooded with tears again.

“You tried, we both did. There was nothing we could do.” Dean has said it a hundred times, never letting it slip that he too wonders if they could have done more. Isn’t there always something more he could have done? Isn’t Dean always just a minute too late, isn’t he always failing to save people? He couldn’t save his parents, he couldn’t save Jess, and he couldn’t save Kevin. Makes his words of comfort to Sam feel empty.

“Was mine to saves, n-not yours,” his little brother slurs into the couch cushion.

Dean turns his face away, choking back his own tears and drawing in a few shaky breaths. He composes himself enough to face his brother again, only to find Sam’s eyes closed and mouth hung open slack, finally passed out. He has to slap a hand over his own mouth to fight back a sob. Chest heaving, he feels the tidal wave of emotion about to drown him. He fumbles for his phone and types out a text with shaky fingers.

**Dean >> ** I need you, please come

He drops the phone. His head feels like it's swimming as he struggles for air, putting his forehead on his knees. Fingernails digging crescent shape dents into his sweaty palms. He loses track of time…till he hears the sound of boots in the kitchen, and someone calling his name in what sounds like a worried whisper.

He waves a hand in the air and hears the footsteps approaching, looking up to see Castiel staring at Sam snoring on the couch, and Dean curled up on the floor next to him. His knees are pulled tight to his chest.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Cas holds out two hands to Dean, and he feels his body practically melt at the soft words. Grasping his hands, he lets Castiel haul him to his feet and move into the kitchen, where he guides Dean to a chair. “Do you have a kettle?”

“O-on the stove,” Dean gets out in a hoarse voice. Eyes stuck on his hands, he looks at all the scars he’s collected there.

Castiel begins shuffling around the kitchen, seemingly trying to be quiet but Dean knows he won’t wake Sam. When Sam passes out, he does so hard. Dean buries his face in his hands, trying to slow his breathing down and feeling utterly untethered. He realizes his whole body is trembling when Castiel’s steady hand lands on his shoulder. A hot mug of tea slides in front of him, and he carefully moves his hands to wrap around it.

“I’m right here, Dean. Can you look at me?” Castiel’s voice is warm like silk and Dean blinks up at the man. It's a struggle to meet his eyes when all Dean wants to do is bury himself in a deep dark hole and never come out. Still, he makes himself do it and finds soft blue eyes looking back at him. “That's it, just keep taking some slow, deep breaths.”

He nods, because he can’t talk yet if he tries. God, he is such a mess. What on earth does someone like Castiel want with him, anyway? No one would want to deal with all of this shit, having to constantly piece him back together. He’s nothing but a burden, a useless trainwreck of a person. He can’t even take care of the one family member he has left in the world. If he can’t even be a good brother, and he can’t be a good friend, and he’s shit as a submissive for Cas, then what’s the fucking point? Why does he even stay around all these people if all he does is drain them all? How is he supposed to look in the mirror and—

“Stop that, Dean.” Castiel's voice is stronger and more commanding now, making him sit up a bit and snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. “I think you're in a sub drop right now, so whatever your head is telling you, it's the drop talking.”

He tries to process that. He had talked a lot about sub drop with Cas, and done his own research on it as well. Still, it couldn’t possibly feel this bad, could it?

“I know, I know it feels terrible right now, Dean. I think whatever is happening with you and your brother likely set it off, especially after a scene.” Castiel begins rubbing a circle on his back, and wow, does that feel good. He tips his head down and takes a tentative sip of the tea. The warm liquid feels like it loosens the tense muscles in his throat so he takes another long sip.

“You did the right thing calling me, Dean. I am so proud of you. You knew you needed help and you reached out for it. That was incredibly brave.” Castiel plants a soft kiss on the top of his head. Dean certainly feels like the farthest thing from brave. “Is it alright if I stay here tonight, Dean? I don’t want you to be alone.”

He feels a little embarrassed needing Cas like this, but he’s pretty sure he will actually fall apart if the man leaves, so he just nods. “Good, now I want you to finish this tea for me, alright? And I am going to get you something to eat.”

He can’t fathom eating, but he does as he’s told and continues sipping on the tea. Castiel gets up and begins rifling through the cupboards till he returns with a bag of peanut M&Ms Dean had stashed above the fridge. He watches as Cas takes out a piece and holds it up to Dean’s mouth. He blinks a second before automatically opening his lips. Fingers press the candy to his tongue and linger a moment before pulling back.

Piece by piece, Castiel feeds him the candy, and Dean feels a little less shaky as the sugar hits his system. His body aches now, and all he wants to do is lie down. “Bed?” he asks, the first word he’s managed in a few minutes.

“Yes, sweet boy, come with me.” Castiel takes Dean’s hand again, the touch grounding him as they walk up the stairs to his room. He blushes a little at the small space that he still hasn’t fully moved into.

“S’not much.” He shrugs.

“It's perfectly fine. Now arms up,” Castiel orders, and Dean finds it so easy to just obey. He lifts his arms, letting Castiel undress him till he is down to his boxer briefs. He ushers Dean to the small bed before he too disrobes to his boxers, and shutting off the light crawls into the bed, spooning up behind Dean. He lifts his head so Cas can put his arm under the pillow, and wiggles back till they are snug together.

He settles even more when Cas uses his free hand to hold both of Dean’s wrists together against his chest. Something about the small restraint feels amazingly safe. “Thank you,” he whispers into the dark, feeling just a bit more on even ground.

“It's an honor to take care of you Dean, truly.” A soft kiss is placed on the back of his neck.

“It's the anniversary of Jessica’s death today. She was Sam’s girlfriend in college. He was gonna propose to her. He’s always kinda a mess on this day, not that I blame him.” Dean finds it so much easier to talk into the dark like this.

“That sounds like a very hard loss for you both.” Castiel keeps his voice low and soothing.

“It was, it was just so—so violent. She burned in a house fire, and we got home when it had just engulfed the upstairs. We tried to get to her but it was too late, so I just got Sammy out, you know? I can’t begin to think what I’d have done if Sam had been up there.” He shivers at the very thought.

“Has Sam ever talked to someone about his loss?”

“I think a grief counselor from the college when it first happened, but uh, no, he just soldiered on. It's kinda what we Winchesters do.” Dean figures this can’t be a shock to Castiel at this point. “Talking about the shitty stuff that happens doesn’t change the fact it happened.”

The room is quiet for a moment, and he can practically hear Castiel thinking. “I’ve found that sometimes talking about pain can help a person let some of it go. I know talking about my own loss was very cathartic for me.” Castiel’s voice is tinged with melancholy as he talks. “It didn’t erase the pain, but I was able to accept it and not let it control me.”

“What loss?” Dean asks quietly, then realizes how unfair it is to ask that. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“It's alright, I can talk about it now. My last submissive, Alfie, was a bit troubled. He’d been through some bad and abusive relationships in his past. I tried to show him how it was with a good dom, who respected boundaries and cared about his partner. We were together for six months, and it was going well before he started spiraling. He wanted more and more pain from me, pain I wasn’t comfortable giving. He wouldn’t communicate with me and I eventually caught him using drugs. I told him we couldn’t scene while he was using and I offered to help him get in rehab, but he wouldn’t listen. He broke things off and moved town. I was heartbroken. I couldn’t help him no matter what I tried. I received a call from his sister Hannah a few weeks later saying he died of an overdose. I carried a lot of guilt over that, the what ifs. What if I had noticed sooner, what if I had tracked him down, what if I had been a better dom.”

“None of that was your fault, Cas,” Dean whispers, feeling Castiel’s hold tighten on him.

“I eventually came to understand that, though it took me a long time. My therapist, Joshua, helped a great deal.” Castiel's words sink in slowly and Dean thinks again about the VA pamphlet in the kitchen.

He swallows hard before voicing his fears into the dark. “Are you afraid about that with me?”

“Afraid of what?” Castiel asks softly.

“That you could lose me?” He wasn’t sure why he was asking such a thing. Would Cas lose him? Was he afraid that it would someday be too much for him to take?

“You always come to me when you are in trouble. From the beginning, you didn’t hide from me. When things get hard you’ve let me help carry the load. Even tonight, your instinct was to reach out for help. I look at you and I see a man with hope, a man who is trying to heal. These things take time. Alfie did none of those things—he never truly let me in, truly trusted me. Because of that he never fully connected with me, and I think that is why I lost him. I don’t feel that way with you, Dean.” Castiel hummed softly, placing a kiss on his neck again, and his warm breath on Dean’s skin felt comforting.

“Are you afraid of that? Are you afraid that all this will be too much for you?” Castiel’s voice holds no judgment to it and Dean takes the time the question deserves.

“Honestly?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“Always.”

“I used to worry about it, when I first got back. I’d heard so many stories, you know, of soldiers that came home and couldn’t hack it. Hell, I’ve known some guys who came home and ate a bullet within a few months. I was so banged up when I got home, the weight of it didn’t really settle in till I was released from the hospital. I felt… I felt really alone. Something I never felt before. I always had my brother, and he’s like the other half of me, you know? And I had my squad and they were like family. I just… I understood, you know, why those guys did what they did. To be that disconnected, it can eat you alive from the inside out. I never really gave in to that urge. I think it scared me too much, the idea of hurting Sam so much. So I just focused on that, not hurting Sam. Then I found the farm and the horses and you…and it felt like maybe I could get through this. Sometimes I’m not sure it will get better, but I have to hope it will. You make me hope it will.” Dean can’t believe the words falling out of his mouth. It feels like a dam breaking within him and spilling out into the still night.

“You are so much stronger than you know, Dean. I hope you can see that, and I hope you know that admitting when you feel weak or alone is the strongest thing you can do. If you ever do feel that way, I hope you know you can talk to me. Maybe when you're ready you can talk to someone else about these things too. Someone who understands exactly what you're going through.”

Dean nods a little, thinking of Sam and all the pain he carries, and of the loss Cas suffered. He doesn’t wanna be a statistic, and maybe he could at least try it out. “I’ll think about it, is that okay?”

“Of course it is, Dean. When you're ready.” Castiel nuzzles in against him.

“Would you go with me, if I decide to go?”

“Anything you need.” Dean smiles at the confirmation, and even with the tight squeeze Castiel has on his body, his chest feels so much lighter.

“Think I need to sleep right now, though,” he huffs, feeling exhaustion pulling him under.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel whispers.

“Night, Cas,” he whispers back, and is suddenly fast asleep.

Castiel stirs as his face heats from the light streaming in the window. Dean is softly snoring next to him. Somehow in the night they became a tangle of limbs together. He gives himself a moment to stretch and yawn as silently as possible. He tips slightly off the side of the bed, pulling his phone from his jean pocket on the floor. Checking the time, he is happy to see it’s only five thirty, and he has plenty of time before he has to feed the horses.

Dean begins to shift next to him, a hand curling around Castiel’s torso. Cas can’t help but stare at the beautiful man and be amazed by him. He is so proud of Dean and how far he has come. He knows he has a ways to go, but he has shown so much growth and strength in the face of such hardship. He is quite certain that his beautiful sub has earned himself a reward.

He begins to kiss and nuzzle at Dean’s neck, feeling the stubble tickle his cheeks. Dean lets out a soft low moan, eyes scrunched shut against the light. Castiel grins against his skin and continues to kiss and nip, till finally Dean relents—opening his eyes.

“C-C-Cas,” Dean says on a long yawn.

“Morning, my good boy. I need you to wake up for me,” Castiel purrs lightly.

“Mmm 's too early Cas,” he whines petulantly, shutting his eyes, and it's kind of adorable. Dean is not a morning person.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Cas sing-songs.

This gets Dean to squint at him, his curiosity piqued. “Go on.”

“I think you have earned a reward for being such a good boy.” Castiel tosses the blanket back, taking in Dean’s mostly naked skin. Dean seems to flush a little but bites at his lower lip, just a little of that flirty confidence shining through. Castiel’s hungry gaze must be incredibly obvious, because Dean smiles and stretches out wide on his back.

“What's my reward, sir?” Dean asks with a wiggle of his hips. Morning wood is tenting his boxer briefs, and Castiel can’t help but grin.

“Well, if you do what I say I am going to suck your cock until you come down my throat. Do you think you can do that?” Castiel raises a brow, knowing Dean loves a challenge.

“Yes sir, I can listen,” he nods quickly.

“Repeat your safe words for me,” he commands firmly.

“Green is good, yellow to slow down, and red to stop.”

“Good boy,” he praises, before he crawls off the bed and hears a small whimper behind him. He rifles through what looks like clean laundry and grabs a pair of underwear, then snatches up Dean’s belt from the floor. When he returns to Dean, he finds him wide eyed and already breathing heavy in anticipation.

He knows he wants to put Dean in some bondage since it's gone well for him so far, but without his normal toys he is going to have to get creative. “Hands above your head, get up against the headboard, there, just like that,” he orders. He places the underwear down next to Dean and takes the belt, looping it around Dean’s wrists, and lightly binds him to the rod iron bed frame. “If your fingers feel any tingling at all, you tell me immediately, sweet boy.”

“Yes, sir, promise sir.” Dean nods vigorously, obviously very willing to please this morning. But Cas can see the vulnerability there, and it makes his chest soar at the sight of it. Next he moves Dean’s boxer briefs down his thighs, leaving them around his calves and exposing his rapidly hardening cock. . Castiel shifts the man's legs apart so he can kneel on the boxer briefs, effectively pinning Dean’s legs down. “Does this hurt your legs at all?” he asks, hoping the pressure isn’t too hard.

“No sir, it’s good if I don't move,” Dean answers quickly.

“I expect you to stay nice and still for me, then, won’t you?” Castiel gives him a wicked grin, knowing that will be difficult for him. Dean nods vigorously. 

“Hmmm…” Castiel sits back, staring at Dean and dragging out the anticipation. “Just one more thing.” He leans over and slips a finger into Dean’s pliant mouth, feeling the flick of a tongue against his skin that makes him shiver. “Open up, good boy,” he commands, taking out his finger and stuffing the clean underwear into his mouth, gagging him.

He smiles, looking down at Dean now fully trussed up and at his mercy. “What a beautiful boy. Now this will help you keep nice and quiet so we don’t wake your brother. If you need a safe-word, simply snap your fingers. Can you show me?”

Dean snaps his fingers loud and clear, making him smile. He hums happily, letting Dean see how pleased that makes him. He wants to make this very good for his boy. Leaning down, he places a chaste kiss on the man's collarbone. The skin prickles under his touch, and he can’t wait to tease the pleasure out of him. Kissing and nipping at him, he slowly moves south to the left nipple, taking it into his mouth and licking at it.

Dean makes a sound low in his throat that comes out even dirtier through the underwear stuffed in his face. Wanting more of that sound, Castiel sucks and twirls his tongue around the bud, lifting his other hand to begin playing with the neglected nipple. He can feel Dean’s breath speeding up and the strain of his muscles to stay still. He switches sides, sucks and teases, and gives gentle nips till Dean is arching off the bed.

“My sensitive boy. I love how responsive you are,” he purrs out the praise, enjoying the blush to Dean’s freckled skin. He moves down lower, feeling Dean’s erect cock brush against his chest. A whimper leaves Dean’s chest and Castiel looks up as he kisses across the soft skin of his middle, catching those green eyes, pupils blown wide. He loves giving this to Dean, feeling him alive and vibrant below him. It sets his chest aflame.

“Hmmm, so beautiful,” he hums softly, as he finally reaches Dean’s needy cock. The sub’s chest is heaving and hands are opening and closing, but otherwise he is staying very still and very good. He dips lower, and using a hand to push Dean’s cock forward, he sucks both balls into his mouth. Dean lets out a muffled sound, that if Castiel could guess, was an “oh fuck.” He sucks and rolls the balls gently in his mouth, pressing on his perineum with his free hand. He knows it's not as strong a sensation, but externally he can still tease the prostate just enough to get a shiver from the man. Dean is now tossing his head from side to side and mumbling something through the fabric.

He pulls off Dean’s balls and licks slowly at his own mouth as he meets the man's eyes. He loves the lust and desire he sees there, that Dean is just in the moment and letting himself feel something good. He’s so amazed by him. This man has helped him trust himself again, to show Cas people can heal and grow. Licking a long swipe up his shaft, he then keeps eye contact with Dean as he swallows him down—almost to the root.

Dean lets out a huffed whine and arches off the bed again. His legs wiggle a little at his sides but stay effectively pinned. Castiel chuckles as he begins to suck and swirl his tongue around the perfect cock. He really couldn’t imagine a more perfect body, despite its imperfections. He loves having this man at his mercy and works him torturously slow. One of Castiel’s free hands holds down Dean’s wiggling hips while the other plays with his balls.

Dean’s mumbling and muttering through his gag, nose letting out labored breaths and body quivering. Relaxing his throat, he takes Dean all the way into his throat, swallowing around the substantial intrusion. Dean howls into his gag at this and it makes Castiel’s own cock rock hard. He bobs, taking Dean into his throat on every other dip down. He can feel the pulse growing in his cock and knows he’s right on the edge.

Popping off, he grins up at Dean. “Such a good boy, such a good sub. I want you to come down my throat, baby, come whenever you need to.” He figures his boy has earned an easy orgasm this time around. He sucks Dean back down, and uses both hands to hold his rocking hips still so he doesn’t hurt himself. Cas pulls out every trick he knows, and with a low groan he tastes Dean’s salty come on his tongue. He sucks and licks at Dean’s cock till every last drop is drained from him.

Dean’s head lolls, and he has a glassy look to his eyes and a soft smile on his pink lips. “You're so perfect. I can’t believe you’re mine, my lovely boy.” He crawls off Dean’s boxer briefs, gently pulling them off his legs. Cas then moves up his body till he is sitting in Dean’s lap and takes out his own cock, stroking it. He reaches forward to pull the briefs from Dean's mouth and tosses them aside.

“Sir, please, please come on me, make me yours sir please, please,” Dean immediately starts begging and licking at his lips.

“Hmmm, you are mine sweet boy, all mine.” Castiel smiles, feeling his own cock throbbing, and it only takes a few more careful strokes before he’s coming hard all over Dean’s stomach and chest. His body shakes and he feels that high, loose feeling post-orgasm. Slowly blinking down at Dean, he looks utterly debauched and completely at peace. He hums again before leaning down and grabbing the briefs to clean Dean back up. He undoes the belt and tucks him back in under the covers, spooning up behind Dean with a hand gently carding through his hair.

“Thanks Cas,” Dean whispers happily as he sinks down into the bed. He waits till he can tell Dean has fallen back asleep before he slips from the bed and quickly dresses. He tiptoes down the stairs and finds Sam missing from the couch, but he hears a shower running upstairs. He moves into the kitchen, and it's fairly sparse, but he finds all he needs to make some chocolate chip pancakes. He can’t miss an opportunity to feed Dean, since it fulfills his own desire to care for his sub, as well as getting some needed calories into the man. He starts the coffeemaker and gets to work.

He has just started pouring batter in the pan when he hears footsteps approach. Dean comes into the room, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans with his feet bare and hair mussed up. He looks so incredibly sexy, Cas is considering a round two. “Morning, handsome. Fresh coffee right there.” He nods toward the counter where he set out three mugs.

Dean shuffles up behind him, wrapping his arms around Cas and resting his chin on Castiel’s shoulder. “Pancakes? Man, you're really too good to me.” Dean plants a soft kiss on Castiel’s cheek and Cas feels his heart thump in response.

“Chocolate chip pancakes,” he corrects, and Dean chuckles, kissing the shell of his ear.

“Now you're really spoiling me,” Dean hums, breathing in the smell before he moves to pour the coffee. He’s glad to see that Dean has come around out of his drop so well, and counts his lucky stars the man reached out for help. Dean hands him his mug, which has a Captain America shield on it. He glances to see Dean with a dark Batman mug in his hands, leaning against the counter and watching the food crackle in the butter.

“How are you feeling?” Cas can’t help but ask, as he flips the pancakes over and pulls out a plate for them.

“Good, um, much better for sure, though a bit tired.” He smiles sheepishly, hiding behind his mug.

Sam steps cautiously into the room then, and Cas watches as Dean’s whole body stiffens, ready to run to his brother’s aid. Sam’s hair is damp and he’s wearing jeans and blue v-neck, skin still just a bit pale and eyes puffy. His heart aches for the man. He doesn’t know Sam very well, but he can sense a good soul when he sees one.

“Heya, Sammy. Coffee?” Dean offers, and Sam looks between the two of them, obviously a bit confused at Castiel’s presence.

“Uh yeah, thanks,” he responds in a hoarse voice, slumping his large frame into one of the kitchen chairs.

“I’m making chocolate chip pancakes if you're hungry,” Castiel offers, as Dean makes his brother's coffee and slides it to him, taking the other chair across from him. He sees the way Dean’s eyes scan his brother, and the way he tries to keep the worry off his face. 

“I don’t know if I can eat right now.” Sam lets out a sigh and rubs at his face.

“You gotta eat something, Sammy. It’ll make you feel better.” Dean slides a bottle of Tylenol to his brother, who takes it with an embarrassed thanks.

Castiel finishes up the pancakes with relative silence, and hears the brothers whisper behind him, but focuses on breakfast to give them a moment with each other. He brings over the plates and sets them on the table, taking the seat next to Dean. Soon, both brothers are digging in and letting out satisfied moans at the buttery chocolate of the pancakes. Cas smiles, pleased to have made them happy, and begins on his own plate.

“You off today?” Dean asks his brother, keeping his eye on his plate.

“Uh yeah, I was just gonna do some stuff round here.” Sam shrugs a little, face looking worn and tired.

“Welp, you're not gonna mope around here by yourself. You're coming to the barn with Cas and I,” Dean states with a nod, before stuffing a huge bite in his mouth. Cas glances up at that, and looks at the quick pleading look Dean shoots him.

“I agree, Sam, you should come spend the day. We could use the help.”  Cas knows if he makes it sound like he needs help at the barn, Sam will be more likely to come along. Chances are he already thinks Dean is trying to distract him .

“I don’t know. I haven’t ever really worked with horses,” Sam says awkwardly, but he sounds just a little hopeful.

“I didn’t know shit about horses before. You'll be fine.” Dean nods like it's a done deal.

“You're not really gonna take no for an answer, are you?” Sam raises a brow at his brother.

“Nope,” Dean replies.

Sam shakes his head with a small half smile. “Fine, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean mutters under his breath, and Castiel watches both brothers smile at each other before they go back to eating.

Once they finish breakfast and Dean puts the dishes in the dishwasher, they change and head out to Castiel’s truck. He insists on driving them to the farm. When they reach it, he can already hear Lou stomping and kicking the wall for his breakfast.

“Hey, cool your shit, dude,” Dean hollers at the barn as they all get out of the truck. Cas chuckles at Dean’s grumbling. Lou can be an incredibly frustrating horse. They head inside and Cas lets Dean take the lead, showing Sam the grain room and guiding him to what stalls to put what buckets in. He watches the brothers move through the barn as he begins making up dinner grain for later.

“Am I seeing double this morning?” Ellie asks, coming up behind him.

“Dean’s brother Sam is gonna hang out and help today. He had a hard day yesterday,” Cas says, trying to keep the details private. 

Ellie nods her head in understanding before she moves toward the hay stall, loading a bale onto the wheelbarrow. “Hey, long legs! You're with me. Let's go,” Ellie hollers at Sam and nods toward the paddocks. Sam looks at his brother, who just gestures toward her with a “go ahead” look. Sam hurries then to grab the wheelbarrow and follow Ellie out to the paddocks.

Castiel spends the day observing both brothers. He sees the tension ease from both of them as they help out around the farm. Castiel knows the healing power taking care of animals can have. He even catches Dean introducing Cash and Sam to one another, telling Sam all about how well the horse is doing. Castiel hears the hope Dean has in his voice for the horse, and only hopes that Dean feels that way about himself one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Discussions of suicidal thoughts, and discussions of prior characters death via overdose.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Friends!  
Yes I am still here and still writing. I know its a slower journey on this one so I appreciate you WIP readers dearly. I hope you are all staying safe and well.  
Enjoy!  
CB

Even though the sun is barely over the top of the trees Dean can tell it's going to be a hot day. He gets to the barn before Cas or Ellie and heads right for the grain room as the sounds of hungry, impatient horses grow. He only carries a few grain buckets at a time because he learned that lesson the hard way and cleaning up spilled grain sucks. He moves down the line, greeting each horse by name, dumping in the grain and checking to see how much water they drank overnight. It's an especially quiet morning, though Dean can’t really put a finger on why.

Getting to the end of the aisle, he dumps Cash’s grain giving him a pat on the neck as he moves to Lou at the end. He dumps the grain in Lou’s bucket and looks up in surprise when the horse isn’t there trying to bite the bucket like he normally would.

“Lou?” He calls the horse's name, watching as the red gelding stands in the back corner with his head down, ignoring him. Dean feels uneasy as he goes into the stall and looks around. The bedding has been spun in circles, and he hasn’t touched his water. Looking closer Dean sees that most of his hay from the night before hasn’t been eaten, either. Alarm bells going off, he approaches Lou and strokes a steady hand down his neck to look at him. Dean doesn’t know much about horses but he knows something is wrong.

He hightails it out of the barn and runs full tilt to Castiel’s house, banging on the front door with his fist. Castiel pulls the door open looking tired and agitated in his sleep pants and tee shirt. Dean would normally take a moment to appreciate just how hot the man in the doorway is but this morning he has more pressing things.

“Cas, I think something is wrong with Lou, he won’t eat breakfast and he is acting weird.”

“Fuck,” Cas huffs out. “Okay, head back to the barn while I get changed and keep an eye on him till I get there.”

Dean nods and books it back to the barn. Lou is still standing in the same spot, unmoving. He doesn’t know how long he stands there before both Ellie and Cas come running into the barn.

“Hey there, little devil,” Castiel speaks softly to Lou as he moves into the stall with Ellie on his heels.

Cas moves up next to the horse's head and runs a hand on his neck. He pulls up the horse's lips and pushes at his gums. Lou shakes his head out of Castiel’s hands and swings it around to bite and nip at his stomach. Dean watches as Castiel frowns a little and then almost looks like he’s hugging Lou, pressing the side of his face against his ribs. He hums softly and walks around to do the same on the other side.

“Fuck,” Cas lets out a long sigh. “His gums have okay color but he doesn’t have any gut sounds on the right side. I don’t think he has a twist yet or he’d be in more pain. Ellie can you grab the banamine, a thermometer and call the vet please?”

Ellie nods, leaving the stall. “Dean, can you hand me his halter?”

“What's wrong with him?” Dean asks, handing over the halter and lead.

“He’s colicing, probably a gas colic—that means he has gas stuck and built up in his gut and it's causing him a lot of pain.” Castiel’s brow is furrowed in concern. Ellie returns with the items and Cas gives Lou a dose of the medicine and takes his temp, which is a little high. Dean can see the sweat drenching the horses neck and chest now.

“Ellie, Dean, I want you both to start putting the other horses out,” Castiel’s orders are sharp and it makes Dean jump to attention like he would have for a superior officer. They don’t question him, both moving into action. They get the horses out with hay and Dean watches as Castiel walks Lou around the arena. The two move slow and steady. Sometimes Lou hangs his head and stops but moves with a bit of encouragement from Cas.

Once the other horses are set, Dean sees a truck pulling up in the drive. A woman with a bright smile and blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail jumps out of the cab. She grabs a bag from her truck before striding over to Dean.

“How ya doin there?” She smiles and waves at Dean.

“Uh hi, are you the vet?”

“You betcha,” she holds her hand out to him. “Doctor Hanscom, but you can call me Donna.”

Dean shakes her hand, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. “Cas has Lou out back right now walking around.” He still has no idea why.

“Perfect, good. Let's walk and talk, kiddo.” She grabs his shoulder, steering him toward the arena.

Lou does not look good, and Castiel’s face is even more pinched in concern. “Donna, I’m glad you're here,” Cas sighs with some relief at the sight of the vet.

“Alrighty then, let's see the patient.” Donna looks Lou over, checking his heart and his temperature and his gums, as Cas did, and then uses a stethoscope to listen for gut sounds.

“Okay Cas, I’m gonna sedate him a bit and send him to happy pony land, 'cause I think he’s gonna need a rectal and I think we gotta tube him.”

Dean does not want to know what all that entails but he feels a pang of sympathy for the horse, even if he is the spawn of Satan. 

“Dean, would you mind getting a start on the barn? This is gonna take a while.”

“Of course, just let me know if you need anything.” Dean gives Castiel his best reassuring smile. He works hard even with the dull ache in his leg to get through chores so Ellie and Cas don’t have to worry about them.

It’s late morning when he finishes. He sees that the vet has gone and Ellie is walking Lou around the arena still. He goes to Cas who is sitting on the mounting block watching the pair. Dean can’t help wanting to put his hands on Cas to soothe him, so he grips the man's shoulders, lightly massaging the tight muscles there.

“Why are you walking him around, shouldn’t he rest?” Dean asks as he watches the horse and Ellie pass.

“Walking helps get their gut moving and working and hopefully loosening up. Gas colics are difficult and sometimes unpredictable, they come on really fast but then they can pass just as quickly. The key is to not let him roll. If he does, the gut can twist and that can kill him.” Castiel’s eyes are still locked on the animal. Dean looks in the man’s face and realizes just how much these horses mean to him.

“He’s such a troublemaker. You know his owner dumped him on me, didn’t want a penny for him. He was an old ranch horse, used to working cattle, and a very independent personality. He’s tough, scared the daylights out of his owner and once he realized he could do that she lost all control of him. You know he broke ten water tubs the first two months he was here?”

Dean cocks a surprised brow. “No, how did he do that?”

“Took me a while to catch him at it. He would wait till the bucket was full with fresh water and Ellie and I were out of sight, of course. He would stick both front legs in the water, splash around then knock it over and step on the plastic till it cracked. He did it just because he could.” Castiel rolls his eyes but there's a fondness there.

“Once I figured it out I got that big rubber tub. He tipped it a few times but he never managed to actually break it and he eventually gave up. That horse has caused more trouble than any animal I ever owned. But you know when you gain his trust, there isn’t anything he won’t do for you. I wouldn’t trade him for anything.” Castiel’s voice drops a little lower and Dean bends to wrap his arms tight around the man.

“He’s gonna be okay, Cas,” Dean whispers softly.

“I hope so.” Castiel pats Dean's arm before getting up to take a turn with Lou. 

The three of them spend the rest of the day walking him or waiting with him while he rests in his stall.

“He did it!” Ellie calls and they both hurry to stall. “He finally farted, and he has good gut sounds now.”

Dean whoops and fist pumps the air, never imagining he could be so excited about a fart. Lou looks much better, ears perked forward and eyes brighter. Donna comes back to check him and says he should stick to a mash and mineral oil diet for a bit and slowly work in some wet hay, but he looks like he is on the mend. The relief is immense and Dean finds himself hugging the friendly vet and thanking her profusely. Ellie volunteers to check on Lou tonight so Cas and Dean can head up for dinner.

It's late and Dean has already texted Sam he is staying at Castiel’s. His brother's easy acceptance of Cas has felt a bit like a godsend. He just didn’t think he had it in him to try and convince Sam the man was good for him. Somehow Sam just sees it and it makes Dean feel that more at peace with it.

“Come, handsome, I think it’s time you and I eat and unwind,” Castiel smiles warmly at him. Dean nods hoping unwinding will involve some play time. He feels fidgety and agitated with the stress of the day and more than a little hungry. Having his appetite return can be a blessing and curse apparently, as he chases Castiel up the porch steps.

Castiel stretches, feeling the stress of the day vibrating through him. Dean stands beside him, eyes wide and waiting on him. Sometimes he wonders if the man can tell just how much Cas needs him, too. He thinks a scene is exactly what they both need.

“Dean, I want you to go get ready for inspection, sweetheart.” Castiel nods toward the living room.

“I’m starved, can’t we eat first?” Dean lets out a whine, sticking out his lower lip in an actual honest to god pout.

Normally Castiel would melt under a look like that but can sense Dean pushing a boundary here. He snaps out a hand and curls it in Dean’s shirt, pulling Dean toward him and fixing him with a hard glare. “This isn’t up for discussion. Strip and on the table now, or you’ll earn yourself a punishment.”

Castiel watches the flicker in the man’s eyes, can tell he’s struggling to filter his words when he replies, “But what about a quick snack or something?”

“That's Sir to you. Alright, I can see you need to be put in your place tonight.” Castiel gives a disappointed sigh and can see Dean shrink a bit in contrition.

“I’ll get ready sir, promise sir,” Dean tries to pull away and back track.

“I don’t think so. Strip, and I want you over my lap in the next two minutes.” Castiel throws every ounce of authority into his command before moving past Dean to sit himself in the middle of the couch. He watches as Dean hastily fumbles with his clothes, darting glances at Castiel as he hurries.

“Sir, shouldn’t I shower first, sir?” Dean says weakly once fully naked.

Castiel admires Dean’s sunkissed freckled skin and lean body before he pats his lap. “Now,” he states, simply pointing at his lap.

Dean nods and slowly moves himself to lie across Castiel’s lap. He waits while Dean shifts and settles, noticing his rapidly hardening cock pushing against Castiel’s thigh. He places a steadying hand on the man's back and feels as some of his body starts to sag in relief at the touch. His other hand drops to rub meaningfully over the pert ass before him. Dean jumps at the initial touch but then stills letting out a long breath.

“What is rule number three, Dean?” Castiel asks, still rubbing over the soft skin of Dean’s ass. Heaven help him, he even has freckles there.

“Um, to obey your orders, sir,” Dean repeats, sounding a bit sullen now.

“Do you think you were following that rule very well?” he asks, knowing he sounds a bit like a school teacher.

“No sir,” Dean sounds utterly resigned now.

“I’d say not, I think you earned yourself ten strikes, does that sound fair to you?”

His hand tingles in anticipation of turning his boy's skin a beautiful pink.

“Y-yes sir,” Dean replies stoically.

Castiel knows he needs to play this carefully if he is going to help Dean settle. He rubs his hand over the skin warming it a moment before he pulls it back and swings down a hard hit to Dean’s upturned ass. The body in his lap tightens but he doesn’t make a sound or use his safeword. Castiel rubs over the recently reddened skin and it earns him a low moan. He can feel the cock hard against his leg. He is unsurprised that it's turning the man on.

“Good boy,” Castiel praises as he lays down a few more spanks feeling the growing tingle in his own hand.

Dean is squirming hard now, obviously trying to hold still and failing. He keeps a firm hand on his back and lands the next two blows in quick succession and with the twice the force. That earns him a strangled cry and a hitching breath. He rubs his hand over the tender skin and after the last few blows he hears a hiccupping sound. Slowly he lifts Dean, helping him to stand in front of him, and he stares up at the tear filled eyes.

“What a wonderful boy you are, so good for me, Dean,” he praises and watches as Dean gives him a watery smile. He’s never seen Dean cry unless he was in the midst of a panic attack. Seeing it now, seeing the softening in his face, and the utter relief of the tears cascading down his cheeks, fills his chest with joy. Dean is finally letting out some of all that pent up pain. He knows this is a big moment for Dean, that he is incredibly vulnerable and he needs to do everything just right so his boy knows that this is all okay.

“You took your punishment so well, Dean,” he smiles warmly up at his boy.

“I-I did, sir?” he asks nervously.

“Yes, you did. Come now, go grab your mat, it's still time for inspection.” Dean quickly nods before he hustles to grab his mat and lay it across the table. He sees the little wince when Dean sits on the table and lowers himself down but even that only seems to settle him more. He isn’t in subspace but he’s definitely softened around the edges.

Castiel is quick to lay his hands on the boy. He checks over his face, running a hand through his hair and giving it a scratch before he slides them down his boy's throat. He teases lightly at his nips, smiling at the hitched breath but moves on down his abs. Dean’s erection is half hard, flopped against his stomach and he hefts it in his hand, feeling the soft velvety skin. He rolls his balls gently and lets go before he makes Dean too hard.

“That was a long, stressful day, wasn’t it?” Castiel muses out loud as he runs hands down each of Dean’s legs. Finger tips graze over the bumpy skin and he stifles his own smile that Dean doesn’t even flinch at the touch anymore.

“Yes sir,” Dean answers and with a little tap to his knee his boy flips over for him. Castiel admires the red skin on his ass, especially enjoying how soft it has made Dean. He continues a soft inspection feeling his own anxiety leak away with each touch. Reassuring himself that Dean is safe and well warms him deep in his chest.

“Okay now, let's get you something to eat before we try something new.” He eases his boy to standing, and moves him to sit on the soft couch. Dean goes to protest and he holds up a silent finger. “Your beautiful red back side won’t like sitting on the floor and I won’t want you kneeling up that long. Are you comfortable sitting here?” he asks and Dean nods quickly. “Good, wait here then,” he orders, placing a kiss on his boy’s forehead before heading to the kitchen.

He reheats a quick meal of chicken and pasta, bringing over one big bowl to the couch. He sits next to Dean, and begins spooning them each bites, after placing a pillow in Dean’s lap. Last thing his boy needs is food dropped in his naked lap. They finish their meal in silence and he feels calm after taking care of Dean. He feels selfish sometimes taking his own pleasure from this relationship, but he tells himself over again that they both need this.

He leads Dean up the stairs to his bathroom and takes his time washing Dean down. He smacks the boys hands away when he tries to help till he finally just lets Cas tend to him. Dean looks at him nervously when he shows him the enema nozzle but he knows Dean has used it before and he just wants to give his boy a rinse for what he has planned. He spends time with a few slicked up fingers loosening his boy’s tight hole up till he can easily scissor them in and out.

Once Dean is clean and dried and prepped, he goes to his chest, digging around for his favorite red hemp rope. He thinks it will look lovely against Dean’s warm, pink skin.  He lets Dean see the rope—Dean's eyes go wide, but he stays quiet as Cas leads him back down the stairs . “Alright, lovely boy, I would like to watch the new Dr. Sexy that starts in a few minutes and I would like you to keep my cock warm for me.”

He watches the satisfying, lust blown look in Dean’s eyes. He thinks his boy really needs to feel held and controlled right now and he has just the way to do it. “Color, Dean?”

“Green, sir,” he answers quickly and Castiel nods happily. He sets to work creating a body harness with the rope. He doesn’t pull it too tight, wanting him to be able to wear it for a long time without discomfort. He laces and crosses the rope with a practiced ease before he begins to knot the rope down Dean’s arms, binding them together in front of him and attaching it to the body harness. He checks all the ropes before he moves to his other box behind the couch to pull out his last couple of tools.

“Alright, sweet boy, take this,” he hands Dean a clicker and presses it to his hand making sure he can grip it tight.

“Sir?” he asks, a bit slow eyed now, the ropes already having their desired effect.

“Click that if you need to safe-word,” Castiel makes eye contact, confirming Dean understands. His boy nods and he moves to grab his red leather posture collar, getting all the straps organized. This particular one has a ball gag attachment. He can’t wait to hear the moans his boy makes around it. 

Dean eyes the collar a bit suspiciously but he lifts his head so Cas can fasten it on with three buckles at the back. He leaves enough room so Dean can still easily breathe before he pulls the straps over his head and slips the red ball gag between his pretty lips. He buckles the straps, moving and adjusting them till Dean’s head is fully immobilized. He leans forward and plants a soft, wet kiss on his boy's stretched lips.

“So good for me, sweetheart,” he whispers, enjoying the blush that creeps up his cheeks. He’s never known any sub more responsive and he feels a rush of pride.

“Come here,” he says softly, switching off all but one soft lamp. Sitting himself down on the couch, he lets Dean stand tied and gagged before him as he takes out his own hardening cock from his pants. He grins, knowing his boy can’t bend his head to look down at him as he strokes his cock to full hardness, slicking it up with the lube stashed in the end table.

He grasps Dean’s hips, spinning him around before he guides Dean back to sit on his lap. One hand steadies his cock and Dean lets out a long, low moan as he slowly impales himself onto Castiel’s length. He is certain he will never get tired of that tight wet heat around him. Dean shivers a little as he adjusts to the stretch and burn of being filled.

“There's a good boy, now remember, just sit still for me and relax.” He pulls Dean’s back flush against his chest and tilts into the corner of the couch so he can see around Dean to the TV screen. He flips on just in time for the new episode to start, though he has a feeling they may need to rewatch it another time, seeing as they will be a bit distracted. 

He uses one hand to anchor Dean’s body flush against his own while his free hand snakes around him and begins to loosely stroke Dean’s cock. His boy's cock is definitely enjoying itself but Cas keeps his motions light and slow, not wanting his boy to come for a little while yet. Dean seems to drift in his arms, occasionally rocking his hips down against him but a quick light smack to his thigh makes him go still again.

He struggles to keep his own arousal at bay, not wanting to bring either of them to climax until Dean is a bit deeper in subspace. As the show nears an end he begins to stroke Dean a little faster, twirling his fingers over the head of his cock. His boy, on cue, lets out a small whimper at the change in touch.

He hums, softly kissing at the back of his boy's neck just below the collar. “Love having you at my mercy, all to myself,” he sighs softly, thrusting his hips up into Dean getting another choked sound of pleasure from his beautiful sub. At this angle, his cock head is brushing right against Dean’s prostate. He begins to thrust into him steadily now, Dean letting out whimpers and moans through the gag. He thinks he’s even more vocal while gagged, releasing some inner inhibition.

“That's it baby, let me hear you,” he whispers huskily into Dean’s ear, who shivers as he begins to groan out louder and try to bounce on Castiel’s dick. His sub is so beautiful as muscles strain against his ropes, chest heaving and legs quivering. He wants to be buried as deep in this man as he can get and never leave him. “Dean, oh Dean,” he whispers out feeling a flood of lust and love and he strokes Dean’s rigid cock in time with his own thrusts, feeling his balls tightening up.

“Gonna fill you up, would you like that sweetheart?” he asks, panting and thrusting hard now.

Dean just moans and presses down harder, unable to reply or even nod his head. “Of course you would, my needy boy,” he huffs and squeezes at Dean two more times before he whispers, “Come for me.”

Dean cries out behind his gag arching his back against Castiel, coming hard all over his hand and up over his chest. The tight clench of Dean’s hole around Castiel finishes him off, and he feels his own orgasm rip through him, pumping come up into his sub.

He holds Dean tight against him as he slowly comes down from his own high, placing slow kisses on any of Dean’s exposed skin he can reach. He doesn’t let himself rest for long, knowing his boy needs him. He stands Dean up on shaky legs, grabbing a towel to wipe them both off he moves to stand in front of Dean and look over his face. Dean sways where he stands, eyes half lidded and mouth slack and drooling around the gag. He’s deep under now, maybe deeper than Cas has ever seen him.

“So good, beautiful boy, so good,” he praises as he takes off the gag, easing it from Dean’s mouth. He unbuckles the head straps but leaves the collar on as he checks the ropes aren’t interfering with any blood flow. “Any tingling, baby?” he asks softly, trying not to stir Dean too much in this soft state. His boy shakes his head and smiles, licking his lips.

“Alright, sleepy head,” Castiel scoops Dean up into his arms bridal style and smiles at the small indignant huff Dean lets out as he carries him up to his bed. He lays Dean down and begins to unravel the ropes, watching as Dean drifts in a happy haze. He finally gets Dean fully naked and manages to get him to eat a few bites of chocolate with some water before his boy is fully passed out. 

Castiel checks his phone to see that Ellie texted. Apparently Lou drank water and has eaten all his hay. Everything right with his world again, he pulls his sweet, generous man into his arms and falls asleep, a smile on his lips.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello My Friends!  
I am back with another chapter! There are some content warnings for this chapter and I will put them in the end notes.
> 
> *** CONTENT WARNINGS: See end notes ***

_ "I said, 'I have heard people talk about war as if it was a very fine thing.' _

_ 'Ah!' said Captain, 'I should think they never saw it. No doubt it is very fine when there is no enemy, when it is just exercise and parade, and sham-fight. Yes, it is very fine then; but when thousands of good brave men and horses are killed, or crippled for life, it has a very different look.' _

_ ‘Do you know what they fought about?' said I. _

_ ‘No,' he said, 'that is more than a horse can understand, but the enemy must have been awfully wicked people, if it was right to go all that way over the sea on purpose to kill them."  _

_ —Anna Sewell (Black Beauty) _

Castiel jumps as a cold splash of water hits his chest, followed by an impish laugh.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Dean says between chuckles, as he turns the hose back to the horse and away from Castiel.

“Better watch yourself, Winchester, or there will be consequences,” Castiel teases, and enjoys the light shiver that runs through Dean.

He grabs the sponge from the soapy bucket and begins to wash along Cash’s neck and mane. Dean drops the hose and grabs his own sponge, working on the other side. He scrubs at the golden coat that has taken on a bit of dappling in the summer sun. Cash is a truly beautiful horse. Castiel loves bath-day, since he can get his hands on each horse and really check them over. They've worked through four horses already. Once fully sudsed, Cas steps back so Dean can rinse the horse clean. Cas keeps an eye on Dean who seems to keep glancing at him, possibly waiting for his moment to pounce.

“Don’t forget to really rinse his tail,” Castiel adds, and watches as Dean nods and moves to the tail, the soapy water running down toward the wet mat of the wash stall.

“Looking good, buddy,” Dean hums happily as he squeegees off the water. Castiel smiles looking Dean over, seeing the warm tan coloring on his cheeks and the firm muscle under his shirt. He thinks Dean looks healthier every day, and barely limps at all now. The man’s soul is healing as well, though he knows someday Dean is going to have to face his demons head on.

“So I was thinking, maybe we could go out to dinner tonight,” Dean says, with an air of nonchalance Castiel sees right through.

“Where were you thinking?” Castiel asks without looking at Dean—he can practically feel the tension rolling off the other man.

“Um, I dunno, maybe Laffitte’s? Or we could go to that diner that's over by the dam…they have great burgers,” Dean adds, as he grabs Cash’s lead and takes him to the grass to graze while he dries off. Dean has not suggested any outings off the property before, and Castiel does not take the invitation lightly.

“Either is fine by me.” He smiles, and sees a nervous look in Dean’s eyes. Hoping he interprets the look correctly, he clarifies, “But I do enjoy the burgers at the Riverside Diner best.”

Dean shoulders noticeably relax at not having to make the choice. “Diner it is, then.” Castiel figures if they are taking this baby step, then maybe a more neutral place without familiar faces is best. He still doesn’t know if Dean has spoken to the restaurant owner of Lafitte's or any of his prior comrades in arms.

The afternoon flies by with Castiel and Ellie teaching a few lessons, while Dean fights with the old tractor to get the oil changed. By dinnertime, Dean is covered in dirt and grease, but has a wide smile on his face. They both head toward the house, but notice Sam’s car pulling down the drive. Castiel hangs back on his porch as Dean walks to greet his brother. He can’t hear what they’re saying from here, but he can see the blush coloring the younger Winchester’s cheeks.

A wider smile spreads across Dean’s face as Sam rubs nervously at the back of his neck. Before he can figure out what’s going on, Ellie walks down from her place, a pair of tight dark wash jeans and flowing white blouse on. Castiel does a double take as he sees her hair down for the first time in months. Dean laughs, and it’s a melodic sound—but one scowl from his brother has Dean holding up his hands and walking away, toward Castiel.

Castiel squints at his lover as the man approaches, and feels his jaw drop as Sam opens the door of his car and Ellie slides into the passenger seat with a quick wave to Cas. “What just happened?”

Dean pats him on the shoulder as they watch the car retreat down the drive. “Seems like Sammy asked a certain farm manager on a date.” Dean chuckles again. “That old sly dog…like I wouldn’t find out.”

Castiel hadn’t noticed anything between Sam and Ellie, though when Sam did visit he often followed her around, letting her show him how the farm worked. Then again, she was the barn manager and most knowledgeable, so it only made sense. He frowns again, wondering if he’s losing his touch with his best friend if he didn’t even see this coming.

“Hey worrywart, relax,” Dean snickers next to him. “They are grown-ass adults. Plus it's good for both of them.” Dean tugs on his sleeve, regaining his attention. “Come on, I need a shower if we are going out too.”

“As you wish,” he smiles, kissing Dean’s dirty cheek.

The man rolls his eyes, but drags him inside. “Come on, Wesley.”

They shower together, the dirt and grime of the day swirling down the drain. They even manage to stroke each other off before the water runs cold. Dean has left a few pairs of clean clothes in a drawer now. It doesn’t seem like much, but for Dean Castiel knows it's a big step. They both dress in nicer jeans and clean flannel shirts before heading out to Castiel’s truck. Dean has a nervous, bouncing energy to him, and Castiel almost wonders if he shouldn’t have done a bit of a scene to calm him.

Dean climbs up into the passenger side. “Ready?”

Castiel leans over to plant a kiss on Dean’s lips, simply because he can. Sun-warmed lips press into his, firm and just a bit needy. It has the desired effect of stilling Dean’s bouncing leg. 

“Ready,” he affirms, as they head out for the diner.

The loud rumble of Castiel’s truck fills the quiet in the cab. Dean doesn’t seem to mind, with the window rolled down and his arm resting on the door. The warm breeze runs through his hair and Castiel enjoys this moment, wanting to remember this peace with the man he loves. 

_ The man he loves. _

He’s in love with Dean.

He thinks part of him has known for a while and just didn’t know how to put it to words. He wonders if Dean even knows how he makes Castiel feel. He wants to tell him everything, how lonely Castiel’s life was, and how Dean came in and reminded him he was still alive. He’s never felt passion like this before, or such a deep need to cherish and protect. Dean shook up his boring routine, and in a few months, he’s seen more and more glimpses of the man he thinks Dean was meant to be. Confident, brave, funny, caring, hardworking, and stubborn.

He glances over to see Dean’s head tipped back and eyes shut. He reaches across the distance of the bench seat and pulls the calloused fingers against his own. Dean gives a soft chuckle and returns the squeeze. He keeps his eyes on the road, but he can feel Dean’s stare on him as sure as he can feel Dean’s hand laced with his.

They pull into the small parking lot of the diner and Castiel hops out of the cab, waiting by the bed of the truck for Dean. He watches the back of Dean’s head dip forward and still. He waits, not wanting to rush him with such a big step. He breathes a sigh of relief when the passenger door finally opens and Dean hops out, head held high and a bit of a forced smile on his face. Castiel has learned all of Dean’s masks though, and he knows Dean will put it away when he feels safe again.

Hands in his pockets, Dean sidles up next to him as they move to the front door. Castiel can’t help himself and dips to open the door for Dean, bowing as he enters. That gets the mask to break a bit as Dean rolls his eyes.

“Cheesy fucker,” Dean chuckles, heading inside.

It's a quiet night in the small diner. He lets Dean lead, following him to the far back corner booth by the window. There's a view of the river, and he sees Dean pick the seat facing the rest of the restaurant. He’s unsurprised—he knows Dean wouldn’t want anyone coming up behind him.

“Well hello there, my name is Garth, welcome to the Riverside Diner. Have you eaten here before?” A skinny young man with a goofy smile asks, as he sets down two water glasses for them.

“First time for me, but I think my boyfriend has eaten here before.” Dean flashes Castiel a quick wink that he almost misses. He sits, a bit flabbergasted that Dean would call him that out loud. He can’t begin to stop the stupid smile he knows is stretching across his face.

“Yes, my  _ boyfriend _ is right, I’ve been here before,” Castiel replies, keeping his eyes locked on Dean.

“Well then, for the newbie, we have a daily burger special. Today we have the bodacious bacon burger…say that ten times fast,” Garth chuckles. “The soup of the day is corn chowder, and we have strawberry rhubarb pie.” He slaps the menus on the table and leaves them to it.

Dean folds the menu and places it in front of him, hands steepled on the table.

“No need to peruse the options?” Castiel raises a brow.

“Nope, it's a special night and I am getting all the specials.” Dean’s eyes roam around the room, and it reminds Castiel a bit of Cash when he first arrived, pacing around his paddock.

“Well, I can’t argue with that logic.” Castiel sets his own menu down and catches their waiter’s eye. Garth takes their orders and dashes off to another table.

“I was planning to take Cash on his first trail ride tomorrow. Would you like to take Decaf with me?” Castiel asks, drawing Dean’s attention back to him.

“Yeah, I could do with the feeling of leather between my thighs.” Dean winks at him, and for once Castiel feels a heat creep up his cheeks. Dean seems utterly pleased with himself, leaning back in his seat. “So long as we’re back before the hay delivery, that is.” Dean seems to be holding in his excitement about it now, playing for nonchalance. Castiel can tell how much Dean enjoys riding, and he’s taken to it quickly with a natural balance and a soft hand. Sometimes he thinks that Dean being easily startled these days gives him a more compassionate understanding of a prey animal, like a horse. Slow, deliberate movements and steady, calming tones go a long way.

“If you want the feel of leather on your skin, Dean, you only have to ask,” Castiel whispers to him with a low rumble. He watches as Dean’s tongue peeks out to lick over his plump lip.

“Yes sir,” he whispers back even lower, eyes darting around him.

Before Castiel can begin to contemplate grabbing Dean, dragging him to the bathroom and shoving his dick between those pretty lips, their food is dropped down for them. Both men startle a little at the abrupt interruption, and blush as they turn to their respective soups.

“Benny tried to make corn chowder overseas once. He’s a good cook, but that shit was inedible,” Dean chuckles. “Even I couldn’t stomach it, but somehow Kevin ate three bowls. Poor kid was running to the latrines all night.” Castiel watches Dean as he stirs his soup, memories playing across his eyes.

“Samandriel once tried to cook a casserole for dinner to surprise me. He had passed out, however, and forgotten to set an alarm. I came home to a house full of smoke and a very flustered Samandriel waving at the smoke alarm with a towel.” Castiel smiles a little at the memory. There had been some joy with the man. He realizes he may have erred in bringing up an ex with Dean, but when he meets his eyes, Dean looks nothing but understanding.

“Did you end up eating it?” Dean asks, pushing his empty bowl away from him.

“No, it was basically a charcoal brick. We ordered pizza.” He smiles, glad he can talk about Samandriel with someone. He often feels alone in that grief, for the life he couldn’t help.

“You should let me make you Winchester Surprise tomorrow night.” Dean nods, eyes looking off into space as if assessing what he needs to do.

“Do I want to know what that is?”

“Probably not what goes in it, but trust me, it's good. My mom used to make it.” Dean tacks on the mom part, as if that answers any question about the dish's merits.

“I look forward to it.” Castiel eyes the burgers fast approaching and leans back, so Garth can put them on the table. He hadn’t realized how far both of them were leaning toward each other. Sometimes it feels a bit like magnets.

They finish their burgers and chatter about nothing as the sun is almost fully set, and they get their two slices of pie á la mode.

“Is there anything better than pie?” Dean asks, through a huge bite of food.

“Be a good boy and finish chewing before you talk.” Castiel gives him a knowing look and barely contains the laugh as Dean coughs, nearly choking on his too-large bite before he manages to swallow. Dean scowls at Castiel but there's no heat behind it. Castiel leans back in his seat, taking a more modest piece of pie on his spoon and looking up at the man watching him now. “I can think of a few things that I would rank above pie.” Castiel slowly puts the bite in his mouth, and drags it off the spoon with a little flick of his tongue.

“Tease,” Dean grumbles, but there's a smile on his face. After cleaning their plates, they leave Garth a sizable tip before heading for home. The sky is a hazy pink of late summer.

As Castiel turns into the drive, he sees the lights on in the barn and catches the glint of a silver trailer parked out front. When he recognizes the truck, his heart begins to sink as he quickly begins to plan a way out of this mess.

Dean feels the tension rise in the cab of the truck before he spots what made Castiel go so still. He feels a warning hand on his thigh, and glances to him to see the steel in Castiel’s face. Dean wastes little time leaping out of the truck before it's even in park. Castiel is quick, though, catching up with him as he marches to the barn, tugging at his shoulder.

“Let me handle this, Dean,” he hisses, and they look up to see Abbadon leading Cash toward the trailer.

“Abby,” Cas calls to her, stepping in front of Dean. He’s sure his face looks fit to kill, but he bites his tongue.

“Hello Castiel,” she replies, like the name is bitter on her tongue.

“What's going on with Cash? It's awful late for a show or trail ride?” Castiel somehow has managed to plaster on a fake smile.

“Moving him over to Brookwater Farm before the auction next month.” Abby yanks hard on the halter as the chain over Cash’s nose snaps, causing him to fling his head and yank back. “Stubborn beast,” she growls, only making Cash nervously back away from her.

“Abby, please, he’s going to pull the lead right out of your hand like that.” Castiel tries to calm the wretched woman. “May I?” Castiel approaches her and reaches for the lead.

Abby eyes him shrewdly. “Get him on the trailer quickly. I don’t have all night.”

Dean's heart feels like a beating drum in his chest, watching as Castiel takes the lead from her, going to soothe the frightened horse. “Easy Cash, easy buddy,” Castiel coos to him, placing a hand on his neck. He moves the chain off his nose and hooks the lead to the bottom of the halter. Cash blows out a huge breath, eyeing Abby carefully.

“What auction are you sending him to?” Dean asks her subtly, moving between the she-bitch and Cash.

“No concern of yours, stable boy.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m done wasting time on this money pit. You had your chance, and I’m taking my horse and leaving.”

“Abby, he’s worth more than you would get for him at auction. Give me another month and I can buy him off you,” Castiel offers, rubbing at Cash’s neck in a soothing, firm stroke.

“If you want him so bad, you can bid on him with everyone else. Now load him in the trailer, or I will.” She barks the order, and Dean can see Castiel stiffen. He hurries over toward them, placing a calming hand on Cash’s face.

“We can’t let him go,” Dean whispers to him, and he feels his nerves fraying at the idea. Cash is his responsibility—he was tasked with taking care of him and he can’t let him down now.

“Dean, she owns him, she can do what she wants. We’ll get him back, alright? We just need to find some money and we can go to the a-auction.” At the word auction Castiel’s voice goes tight.

“Do you even know where that will be?” he hisses back, feeling his hackles rise, every instinct telling him not to let Cash go.

“We don't have a choice. There are only two auctions in the area and we will find him. Trust me, Dean.” Castiel asks for his trust like he has many times before, but this is one of the first times Dean finds it difficult to give.

“I’m gonna come get you, okay buddy? Just be good for me,” Dean whispers to the horse, just praying Castiel knows what he’s doing. He feels the lump forming in his throat.

“Come on, Cash, you’re alright.” Castiel pats the horse before leading him past Dean and to the trailer. Heart sinking, Dean fights off the tremble and nausea as Castiel leads Cash up the ramp. Cash rears up, crashing down on the steel ramp with a bang, and Dean’s whole body jolts at the sound. He turns away—he can’t watch as Cash snorts and stomps. He hears the clang of the butt bar sliding into place and the heavy creak of the ramp closing.

He crosses his arms and takes slow, steadying breaths as he listens to the truck engine start, then hears Castiel and Abby’s angry and pleading voices. He doesn’t turn till he hears the sound of tires on gravel, and looks up to watch the trailer pull away and down the drive, his chest aching at the sight.

“Dean?” Castiel asks, and it sounds like it's not the first time he’s said Dean’s name.

“We’ll get him back?” he asks, voice coming out in a croak, and his stupid body is shaking now.

“Yes sweetheart, we will buy him at the auction and bring him back. He’s too good a boy to let go, just like you.” Castiel leans in to plant a kiss on Dean’s cheek, and his warm hand rubs circles on his back. He just nods, feeling numbness setting in. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

It had been such a great night—he’d been proud of himself for getting back out there, doing something as mundane as going to dinner. Now all he feels is lost. He failed Cash just like he failed Kevin.

Castiel leads him to the house. Feet heavy and mind blank, Dean follows him. He doesn’t register much after that. Cas seats him on the couch and Dean can hear him making a few phone calls, pacing back and forth between the kitchen and living room. He knows Castiel is worried, of course he is. He should try and comfort him, but he just can’t seem to break through this drowning feeling.

He jolts when a hand lands on his shoulder, and stills when he sees Castiel watching him. “It's getting late, let's get to bed,” Castiel urges, offering him a hand and hauling him off the couch. He’s a bit surprised to see he’s right and it's nearly ten already. Following Cas, he gets upstairs and stripped down to his boxer briefs before crawling under the covers. Castiel stares at him a moment, sitting up in bed and carding his fingers through his hair.

“Dean, I can see you’re struggling. I want to help, and I feel like a scene might help settle you, but I don’t think you're able to consent right now.” Castiel looks concerned at admitting this, and he wonders just how off he must seem. “I don’t know what you need right now. Can you tell me what you need?”

Dean blinks up at Cas a moment, trying to process the words. Cas always knows what he needs, Dean never needs to say it. One of the many things he loves about Cas…he just knows him. He lets out a long sigh, trying to pull his mind back to the present. “I don’t know, Cas, can we just lay together for a bit?”

It seems like the right answer and Castiel nods, looking a bit relieved and pulls Dean in close against him. He rests his check on Castiel’s chest and closes his eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

****

_ “Come on, move your ass, Henrickson, we're leaving in five,” Dean hollers to his friend, who's digging through his pack. _

_ “It's late, man, we really gotta go out tonight?” Henrickson complains. _

_ “Five!” is his only reply as he ducks his head inside the tent to find the rest of his squad. “Tran, come on, gear up. We're going on patrol in five.” _

_ Kevin rolls his eyes at Dean and lets out a long breath. “Come on man, we just went on one this morning. Isn’t it Trenton’s squad’s turn to go?” _

_ “Hey, we’re all one team, right? We’re on the one yard line, we just gotta drive it home.” Dean pats him on the shoulder, urging him up. _

_ “Okay, and I should have mentioned this six months ago, but the sports metaphors—you want to motivate me? Magic cards, Skyrim, Aziz Ansari.”  _

_ “Come on nerd, let's move.” Dean heads out and finds Gadreel prepping the truck. “Hey Barnes, you ready to head out?” _

_ Pam smirks at him and nods, checking her rifle and giving him a wink. “Locked and loaded.” _

_ Dean swallows, trying hard to ignore the flirtation, but Pam is hard to ignore. Eventually everyone is ready to head out. He hopes it will only take an hour to patrol the surrounding area, then they can all get some needed sleep. It's a cool night in the desert, temps dropping fast out there. It feels like a welcome relief to the heat of the day. It's quiet in the truck. Dean’s eyes scan the road, listening to the rumble of the engine. _

_ “Is Skyrim a movie?” Dean calls over his shoulder to Kevin. _

_ “Video game. You might like it, you get to fight dragons,” Kevin hollers back to him. “Would really play into your hero complex,” Kevin adds with a laugh. _

_ Dean just shakes his head, turning his gaze back to the road. _

_ BANG! _

_ With an eardrum-shattering sound, his whole body is thrown and twisted. Everything is torn up and spun around and then, so suddenly still. Sounds come to him from far away, wetness on his leg and heat, so much heat. He blinks, his eyes open, trying to rouse himself…but his head is foggy. All he sees is fire and metal and dirt. He looks down at his body to see his leg pinned and bleeding. He can barely feel the pain till he tries to pull free, and cries out at the sharp ripple of agony. _

_ He looks around him and realizes his leg is trapped under the truck and it's smoking, flames licking up the sides. He searches for his squad, eyes falling on Gadreel who is lying in a heap a few feet away. He thinks back to something he saw on one of his field medics reports, “injuries incompatible with life.” He cringes, still searching, and he sees a smaller body a few feet away. _

_ “K-K-Kevin,” he tries to yell, but it's a hoarse whisper. Kevin doesn’t move. Dean feels the fire getting closer, burning his skin, and he grunts—leaning up and struggling to get his leg free. Fire catches at his pant leg and he fights and kicks, putting all his strength into wrenching free from the wreckage. _

_ He claws at his leg to put the fire out, twisting in the dirt. He wastes little time crawling over to Kevin, who is face down in the dirt. He reaches for him, throat dry. “Kevin.” He rolls him over and stares into the black burnt pits that were once his friend’s eyes.  _

_ “S-Stay with me, okay?” Dean croaks out. He pulls Kevin up into his lap, smoothing down his hair with his hand. He feels the body tremble in his arms, and one slow rise and fall of his chest before he goes utterly still. _

_ “Come on Kev, you gotta hang on. Your mom’s gonna kill us both if I don’t bring you home.” Dean smiles at Kevin, pulling him in closer. “Stay with me, Kev, please,” he pleads with the boy in his arms. “It's gonna be okay, buddy,” Dean reassures him, patting at the limp form. He shakes him, slaps at his face a few times when he doesn’t respond. “Kevin! Kevin! Wake up! Kevin!” _

“Dean? Wake up, it's just a dream. Dean, wake up.” Castiel’s familiar voice coos at him, and he struggles awake—gasping and kicking out, the taste of dirt and copper fresh on his tongue. He heaves in deep breaths but it feels like he’s suffocating. He looks up at Cas, eyes blurry with tears and he can’t control it, he can’t control any of it, he’s spiraling. He clutches at Cas, silently begging him for what he doesn’t know.

“I have you, Dean, I’m in control. I have you.” Castiel’s voice is firm and strong and Dean shakes so hard he thinks he will break apart. His whole body is coming loose at the seams and he can’t put any words to it. “Hush now, just do as I say,” Castiel tells him, and Dean manages a nod. Anything to make this horrible feeling stop.

Castiel reaches over the bed to the trunk, and comes back with a long length of rope. Sitting him up, Dean feels the slide of hemp against his bare skin as Castiel winds the rope around him, binding his upper arms to his chest. Dean’s watery eyes watch as Castiel reaches the elbow and begins to loop and tie his forearms together in front of him. When he has his wrists together, Castiel tugs and runs and his hands over the rope.

Dean’s shaking stills and he breaths slow and steady against the grip of the rope. The tears still fall, but he feels…held together somehow. Castiel slides around to sit behind up and pulls Dean’s back to his front. Arms wrap around his stomach and hold him close, hold him safe. They sit in the low moonlight of the room, and all he can focus on is the rise and fall of the body below him as his breaths come more easily now.

“Any numbness or tingling?” Castiel softly asks, his hot breath on Dean’s cheek, chin resting on his shoulder.

“No,” he answers back, and his voice sounds rough but the word comes easier. “It was all my fault.” He says the words into the darkness. He doesn’t think he could get them out if he had to look Castiel in the face. “I’m the one who made us go on that patrol. It’s my fault they’re all… They’re all…” He sucks in air, letting the hold of the ropes soothe him. “They died on my watch, Cas. Just one IED and they were all gone.”

He lets the tears fall then—he stops fighting it and just lets go. He sobs for the loss of his friends, he sobs for his inability to save them, for the pain their families must have gone through. It should have been him…he was their leader, and he should have gone down with his squad. Kevin was just a kid. 

Castiel doesn’t say anything, he just rocks Dean, hands still firmly holding him.

He feels utterly drained, the surge of emotion wiping him out. He’s limp as Castiel’s hand strokes at his hair. “It wasn’t your fault, it's the survivor's guilt. I know you did everything you could to keep them safe, but sometimes things are out of our control.” Castiel’s words are whispered into his skin as he soaks them in.

“I failed them. I failed Cash, and I will fail you, too,” he whispers all his fears out on the table.

“Failure is a part of life, sweetheart, but I can tell you now, you didn’t fail any of us. You could never fail me, Dean.” He feels a kiss pressed into his skin. “Can I suggest something?” Dean nods, swallowing to clear the lump from his throat. “I think it might be time to seek some professional help. PTSD isn’t something you can just tough out, and you don’t have to.”

Dean thinks on it, and he knows Cas is right. He doesn’t just want to keep surviving anymore, he wants to try living again. 

“I’ll go tomorrow and make an appointment.” Dean feels a weight lifting just saying that, even if the idea of it terrifies him. He feels Castiel’s hands begin to unwind the rope and rub at the red marks on his skin. Cas tucks him back into bed, and he tumbles into sleep to the warm press of lips to his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** CONTENT WARNINGS ***  
Memory of past traumatic injury, Minor past character death (in italics section). Side note this story is tagged happy ending, that means for Cash too <3 <3 <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello My Friends!  
I really hope you enjoy this one, and are staying safe out there.  
Love  
CB

_ “Until you find out what you are running from, you will never figure out where you are going.” _

_ ―  _ _ Joseph A, Meyering Sr _

Dean shifts a little in the stiff waiting room chair, fingers rapping on the arm rest. Castiel’s hand rests over his own, giving it yet another comforting squeeze. He’s more grateful to have Cas there than he can verbalize. Castiel’s hand moves to his shoulder and fingers dance over the strand of rope hidden under his clothes. He hadn’t been sure about the rope harness when Castiel offered, but the pull of the rope on his skin feels incredibly reassuring, like Cas himself is holding him and touching him all over.

“Mister Winchester?”

Dean glances up to see a man with long, wavy salt and pepper hair standing in the doorway to his office.

“That’s me,” he replies, standing up straight and putting his shoulders back. Since he set foot in the VA he can’t help but feel a bit on edge just being around the military atmosphere.

“Welcome, I’m Doctor Knight. Come on in.” He offers Dean a warm smile and retreats to his office. 

Dean glances back at Castiel who just gives him an encouraging nod. He hates needing Cas there but seeing as he doesn’t have a car, he needed the ride. Plus there was no way he was letting Sammy drive him, the kid was unbearable enough since Dean mentioned coming here.

“Have a seat wherever you like.” Dr. Knight gestured toward a couch sitting under a window and two comfy looking arm chairs against the back wall. The doctor moved to sit in a leather chair to the side of his desk, hands in his lap over a small notebook. 

“Thanks, Doc,” Dean replies, sliding into the chair closest to the doctor and running his hands over his thighs. He feels like smirking when he notices the guy has the most cliche therapist sweater on he’s ever seen. He glances at the desk to see a small name plaque reading  _ Dr. Cain Knight M.D. _

The doctor looks down at his notepad. “Staff Sergeant Dean Winchester... Are you comfortable with me calling you Dean?”

He feels his body freeze a moment before relaxing again. No one has called him by that title for a long time. “Dean is fine.” He shrugs.

Sharp blue eyes scrutinize him a moment before softening and his hands land over the notepad. “I prefer to keep things a little more informal when I meet with people, so Cain or Knight is fine. Though I will say people with a military background are often more comfortable with an honorific, I am equally fine with remaining Doctor as well.” Dean nods, thinking it over. He will probably stick with Doctor, it just seems rude otherwise. “I have been working at this VA for nearly ten years now, I served overseas in several tours when I was a younger man, before the grey,” he points toward his obviously grey hair and Dean grins back a little. “I went into this field of work to help people struggling with some of the same things I did. My main focus is treating PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Most of the people I see have been through some form of trauma in their lives.”

Dean nods again because he isn’t sure what to say to all that. Trauma sounds like the right word to describe what he went through, but it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

“Let's start a little lighter though, how is your day going so far?” The doctor smiles invitingly and something about the guy does put Dean at ease. Maybe it's the calm confidence that is so similar to Castiel.

Dean sucks in a breath, feeling the lump forming in his throat. “Alright I guess, had a good breakfast.” He immediately winces at what a dumb thing that is to say. He feels his knee bouncing and stills it when he sees the doctor’s eyes look at it.

“I’m a bit lazy with breakfast myself and usually have just toast with some honey on it,” the man smiles.

“We had some bacon left from the local farm down the street and Cas cooked up the eggs in some of the leftover grease. It was so good.” Dean licks his lips at the memory, and yeah okay, Dean really likes his bacon, so sue him.

“Is Cas the man in the waiting room with you?”

Dean hesitates a second, wondering if this guy might be a homophobe. He decides if the guy is, it's better to find out now than later. “He’s my boyfriend, yeah.”

“Glad to see you have someone in your corner, and someone who can cook at least.” The man smiles again and Dean relaxes a little more.

“He’s the best. Way too good for me, honestly,” Dean adds, because...well, it's the truth.

“Is he the main person you lean on for support?” the doctor asks, voice warm as silk and no hint of judgement.

“Lately yeah, but I always have my brother Sammy, too,” Dean is sure his little brother is just checking his phone all morning waiting to hear from him.

“Younger or older?” Cain asks with a grin.

“Younger, though he got all the brains in the family,” Dean laughs.

“Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” he asks with a frown.

“Talk down about yourself?” His question should be accusatory but it mostly comes off as curious.

He fidgets a little in his seat. “Sometimes, I guess. Cas doesn’t like it.” He frowns before adding, “Sam doesn’t like it either.”

“I can’t imagine they would if they care about you,” he adds simply. Dean only nods, feeling a bit guilty and glad Cas isn’t here to catch him. “I have a little brother as well, he can be a real pain in the ass.” The doctor says this with a smirk, nodding toward a picture on his desk. Dean looks and sees a younger version of the doctor with his arm around another man, almost his twin. Dean huffs a quick laugh, relieved for the change of topic.

“You aren’t kidding,” he says, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“They are the best though, even when annoying. Are you close with Sam then?”

“Yeah, close as it gets. Practically raised the kid. Guess I shouldn’t call him a kid, he’s a doctor now, has the MD with his name like you do.” Dean nods toward the name plate.

“You must be very proud.”

“Hell yeah I am,” Dean smiles, happy to have the conversation kept away from him.

“I am guessing his MD is not in the field of psychiatry?”

“No he fixes bodies, not messed up heads like mine.” Dean tries for a laugh but it falls short, and the doctor doesn’t call him on it.

They talk about safe areas for a while, his living with Sam, the job Dean got at Stowaway Farm, his new found appreciation for horses, and how he met Cas. He talks about the good things enough that the lump in his throat eases a little and he feels less on edge. The doctor is pretty cool too, he seems genuinely interested for a guy paid to listen to him yammer on. He is pretty sure he hasn’t talked this much in years.

When the conversation dies down the doctor hums a moment, reaching to his desk and pulling over the papers Dean filled out before the appointment. He cringes at the sight of them, and all those intrusive questions. Even though they were just checking a box with replies like never, sometimes, frequently, or all the time, it still felt like he was being gutted to do it.

“Thank you for filling this out, Dean. I know it can be difficult at times to see things that make us uncomfortable put on paper. Oftentimes it's easier than verbalizing them.” The doctor gives him another smile, putting the papers on his lap. “I want you to know that today is just about us getting to know each other, discuss what things in your life you want to work on here, and I can tell you about the kinds of help I can offer you. Does that sound good to you, Dean?”

“So I don’t have to sit here and tell you all my darkest shit?” He knows that's what’s coming. Is this guy gonna blame all his issues on his shitty childhood and want Dean to relive all that terrible shit of the last few years? He doesn’t know if he can, which is why he didn’t want to do this to begin with. How can bringing up all that shit make anything better?

“No, Dean, we won’t be discussing any past trauma today. If and when we do, it will be when you are ready for it and I can help you through it. What I want to learn from you is what you are struggling with today, what brought you here, and in a perfect world what do you want to get out of this experience.” The doctor sets the papers and note book back down on his desk and steeples his hands on his lap.

He takes a deep breath in through his nose feeling the rope harness hold him pressing against his skin and feels a little better. “Well, you read the sheet, right? So you know what’s been going on.”

“I know what boxes you checked off.” The doctor gives him an understanding look and Dean tries not to roll his eyes. “I was hoping you could elaborate for me.”

Dean stares down at his lap. This is why he is here, right? “I have been struggling, since I got back from my last tour. Not sleeping very well, if at all. I can’t always fall asleep and when I do I wake up a lot with bad dreams. I’ve been really jumpy you know, little shit that never would have bothered me before. Having some panic attacks too and those really suck.” He rubs his hands over his face feeling shaky just mentioning those things. The lump in his throat feels even bigger than before.

“That sounds really challenging,” the doctor replies, “and you mentioned some dissociation with your panic attacks?”

“Yeah sometimes I just, check out, you know?”

“I do know.” The doctor gives him a comforting nod and something tells Dean this guy might have personal experience with this stuff. “Do you ever see things that aren’t there?”

Dean cringes a little at the implication of admitting to something like that. “You're gonna think i’m nuts aren’t you?” he accuses, knowing how defensive he sounds.

“Let me make something clear, I do not believe you are nuts, or crazy, or bonkers. I don’t use those words in this office and hope you can do the same.” The man raises a challenging brow at him and he feels a bit chastised. Okay, he may have deserved that.

“Yeah sorry,” he mumbles. “I uh... have been seeing things sometimes when I’m having a panic attack usually. But I know they aren’t real, ya know?” He wants to make that clear.

“How has your appetite been?”

“Better lately, but yeah, haven’t really been as hungry since I got back.” He smiles a little thinking how much better food tastes when Cas makes it for him.

“I’m glad to hear that's been improving for you.” The doctor leans farther back in his chair, looking at Dean. “And have you had any thoughts of self harm? Any thoughts of ending your life?”

Dean freezes a moment at such a heavy question being delivered so calmly and his gut reaction is to yell  _ hell no _ , at the top of his lungs. Instead he thinks on the question a moment before replying, thinking oddly of how proud Cas would be of him. “Not thoughts of hurting myself, no, but sometimes it's hard to see a reason to go on, you know? When it's really bad I just think sometimes it would be easier to stop trying, that people would be better off without me around. I just don’t think I could ever leave my brother like that. I can’t leave him all alone even if things suck. Then meeting Cas, it gives me hope, I guess, that things can get better, maybe. I want them too.” He can see his hands shaking in his lap and he squeezes them together like he’s holding his own hand. Breathing deep into the ropes and reminding himself that he’s not alone and Cas is right outside that door.

“Thank you for telling me about all that. Truly, Dean, coming here and asking for help is one of the bravest things a person can do. I know how hard these things are to talk about and it's no small thing you’ve done. Good news is I can help you, Dean, if you're willing to put in the work with me.”

“That's the plan right?” he asks hopefully, worried they would just tell him he was a lost cause.

The doc smiles genuinely then. “Yes, it is. Have you ever heard of EMDR?”

“E what?”

“EMDR, eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. It's a form of treatment used to help people who have experienced trauma like yourself. I think a combination of that with some longer term talk therapy could help you get what you want out of life and help decrease those symptoms you’ve been feeling.”

“So you're not just gonna put me on a bunch of pills?” He half expected to be doped up to zombie status.

“We can discuss later if any medication might be a good fit for you, but for now I think that your biggest challenge is the PTSD symptoms. I have had a lot of success using this treatment for many years now, and the nice thing about it is it can sometimes only take a few sessions to work.”

“Really?” There has to be a catch here.

“Really. There are a few different ways people do this but in essence the goal is take a traumatic event that you have stored in your long term memory, move it to short term memory by talking the event through and disconnecting the negative emotions from the event so when its stored back in long term it doesn’t have the same emotional impact it had before. We break the connection between the intense emotion and the memory by having you follow a light bar back and forth with your eyes, or a finger back and forth, or some people use these handles you can hold on to that give you a mild buzz vibration.”

“But I have to talk through the whole thing?” he asks nervously.

“That is part of it, yes. You will need to bring the full memory to the forefront so we can work to change it. Think of it like the bomb squad that disarms a bomb, it's in essence the same thing as it was before, only now it can’t hurt you. I want to help you disarm these bombs you're walking around with. Most people who find success with this treatment will have reduced or eliminated their panic attacks, hallucinations, even nightmares. Depression and general anxiety symptoms improve as well. Like I said it doesn’t always work for everyone but I think you're a prime candidate to try this.”

Dean thinks on it. While it sounds kinda terrifying, it also sounds kinda amazing. The idea of reliving and talking through the things he’s seen, the things he’s lived through, makes him wanna puke and run for the hills. In the end, Dean is a Winchester, and they don’t run scared, they stay and fight. He wants to fight this, and even if it scares the shit out of him, he’s gonna do it.

“Alright Doc, I want to do it,” he nods, still squeezing his hands on his lap.

“I am glad to hear it, Dean, and you're not going to be in this alone. I want you to take these papers home with you.” He grabs some papers off his desk, handing them to Dean. “I want you to read through the information on this treatment and we can discuss any questions you have in your next visit. Also during the next week I encourage you to think of a project you could do. Something maybe you used to find joy in before and maybe have been hesitant to get back into. You seem like a goal oriented person, Dean, you like a challenge and accomplishing things. I know because I’m the same way. So see if you can’t find something that might give that sense of accomplishment to you, and we can talk about it next time you come.” The doctor stands and stretches, reaching out a hand to Dean.

Dean accepts the hand, rising out of his chair. He feels kinda exhausted, but maybe just a bit better. He does like having a plan and a task to accomplish. Read some papers, find a project, piece of cake.

“Thanks, Doc.” He can’t really express how grateful he feels to this man. For not making him feel ashamed or broken for treating him like he was strong and capable and worth while.

“It was my pleasure. I really liked meeting you, Dean, you're a pretty bad-ass guy.” The doctor pats him on the shoulder with a broad smile Dean returns.

“Back at ya, Doc.” He opens the door to see Castiel sitting in the same chair reading on his phone. He jumps up at the sight of Dean and flushes a pretty pink with embarrassment for his obvious excitement at seeing him. God, he loves this man so much, and isn’t that terrifying?

Castiel watches Dean shake hands with the doctor and smiles up at Dean when he comes over to him.

“Ready to go?” Dean asks, looking a little tired but surprisingly relaxed. Castiel nods and takes his hand as they head out to the car. He’s dying to ask Dean how things went but he is terrified of pushing the man too hard and he bites his cheek to keep all his questions in.

“Go on, I know you wanna ask.” Dean smirks at him when they reach the car and gives his hand a squeeze as he jumps up into the truck.

Castiel follows him, jumping up on the driver’s side. “Did it go well?” Castiel finally asks once on the road.

“It did actually. I mean, time will tell if it helps, but I like the guy.” Dean folds the papers on his lap and Castiel doesn’t ask what they are.

“I am proud of you, Dean. I think you’ve earned a reward.” Castiel lets a little dom slip into his voice, keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

“Oh yeah? What did I earn, Sir?” Dean lets his voice drop a little lower and slowly licks his bottom lip.

“You won’t come until I say so, but you get to decide where,” he answers simply, certain the possibilities might take a second to sink in. Dean squints at him and he can only see him in his periphery but he can’t help chuckling at the confusion there.

“What exactly are my options Sir… for where?” he asks carefully and Cas can hear the excitement in his voice.

Castiel hums like he’s considering the options, keeping his voice as casual as possible. “Well you can come on my chest while I fuck you rough and hard.” Dean practically shivers next to him. “You could come down my throat while I swallow around you…” He nods like this is a very viable option and ignores the little whine Dean lets squeak out. “Or you can come deep in my ass while I ride your cock.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Dean gasps, pressing his hand to his lap, likely trying to stifle his growing erection.

“Is that a good enough reward for being my good boy?” He lets his voice go low and feels his own cock twitch in his pants. Dean just gapes at him. “Words, Dean.”

“Y-yes sir, thank you sir,” he blurts out.

“So do you know where you would like to come tonight?” He knows the answer before Dean even says it.

“Um, your ass sir?” he answers, sounding nervous now, “if you're sure, I mean you don’t have to—”

“Hush,” he snaps and he hears Dean’s teeth click shut. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to ride that gorgeous cock of yours.” To drive the point home he reaches across the bench seat and grips the cock in question, cupping Dean in his jeans. He hums happily at the firm package there while Dean sucks in a sharp breath. “Yes, I think this will be a lot of fun.”

He drives the rest of the way home with his hand gently kneading at Dean’s jeans, fingers skimming over tight denim. Dean is shockingly still as if he might scare Cas away or make him stop if he makes a sound. He smiles when he sees Dean’s head tipped back and his chest heaving, hands gripping the worn seat for control.

He lets go to put the truck in park once they reach the farm and Dean blinks his eyes, biting his lip hard as he realizes they are home. Cas reaches forward and pulls the lip from between Dean’s teeth letting his thumb linger there. “So beautiful,” he thinks aloud and enjoys the embarrassed flush that colors his cheeks.

“Come now, we need to get through our work before we can play,” he takes the keys out and hops out of the truck. He keeps his face completely stoic as Dean walks a bit awkwardly as he comes around the truck.

Castiel waits for Dean before heading into the barn. “Did he give you anything to do before your next appointment?” He hopes he isn’t pushing too much.

“Yeah, he said I should think about finding a project.” Dean grabs two pitchforks handing one to Cas.

“Did you have any ideas for that?” Castiel can already think of a few things he could find for Dean to do around the farm.

He grabs a wheelbarrow and they both start in on stalls opposite each other. “I did actually have an idea but, I don’t really have the tools or stuff I need.”

“What is it? I am sure we can figure out a way to make it work.” He is sure he would move heaven and earth to make it happen for this man.

“I thought I could fix up my car,” he answers a bit quieter and Castiel isn’t sure why this is an emotional thing for Dean but he can just sense that it is. He didn’t even know Dean had a car.

“What kind of car is it?” This seems like his safest question.

“It’s a sixty-seven Chevy Impala. She’s a beautiful girl.” Dean’s voice goes a little soft now and Castiel looks up to see Dean’s mouth quirked in a small grin. “She was my dad's car when I was growing up. He drove us all over in that car, from town to town looking for odd jobs. It was basically my childhood home. He gave her to me on my eighteenth birthday.”

Castiel bites the inside of his cheek to keep the scathing remarks about how Dean deserved a real home growing up from getting loose. “So does she just need a tune up?” he manages to ask, sounding fairly calm.

“She got a bit banged up, so she will need some body work and god knows what else. I was thinking I might reach out to my dad's old friend, Bobby. He has a salvage yard the next town over, and he might have what I need.” Dean seems to be thinking through this idea out loud.

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” he hums his approval and doesn’t miss the embarrassed look Dean tries to hide at the praise.

They continue on with chores and Dean seems to relax into the routine of things, although a bit withdrawn in his own mind. Castiel doesn’t try to pull him out of his thoughts, he just keeps an eye on him while he goes about his training work and follows up on a few phone calls regarding the local horse auction coming up. 

He’s figured out which place Cash is going to be offered at and he thinks he has the money to handle it. Horses don’t go for much at those things—it’s purely spite that has Abbadon even selling him there. She knows how much Castiel detests those auctions. So many abandoned horses end up heading to Canadian slaughterhouses and it breaks his heart. Well-meaning people trying to rescue the horses often attend, and will always bid more money than the meat buyers will. Unfortunately it only pads the wallets of the business and keeps it running. Castiel has always tried to help horses avoid ending up at that kind of auction in the first place. He hates the idea of giving Alistair's Auction house any money but he simply doesn’t have a choice. He can’t let anything happen to Cash.

Once the horses are in for the night, Castiel takes Dean’s hand and leads them toward the house. Coming to his house at the end of a long day feels so much more like coming home when he has Dean with him. He feels a strange peace settle in his chest even knowing the coming scene he has planned.

“Dean,” he gets his attention once they are through the door and have taken off their boots. “I want you to go up stairs and shower. If you go into the toy trunk you will find the body harness, and the cock ring in the night stand. Bring them both to me when you are done.” He leans forward and plants a quick kiss on Dean’s cheek. Dean flushes a pretty pink before nodding and taking off through the kitchen and up the stairs.

Castiel heads to the kitchen to wash his hands and begin preparing dinner. He keeps things simple and cooks some pasta and broccoli to go with the leftover roasted chicken. He doesn’t want to spend any more time in the kitchen then absolutely necessary tonight. He is just placing a large plate of food at the table when Dean comes down the stairs, hair damp and freckled skin all laid bare. Castiel has to remind himself to keep breathing as he takes in the gorgeous man as he strides toward him on his deliciously bowed legs.

“Here, Sir.” Dean hands over the harness and ring.

“Spread your feet apart, yes like that, and hands behind your head, chest out.” Castiel directs Dean until he has him standing just how he wants him. “Can you hold this position for me while I do an inspection and get you ready?”

Dean nods and Castiel smacks his perfect ass making him yelp a little before replying, “Yes Sir.”

“Good, you know I like it when you use your words. Safe words are still in play, Dean. If the strain of the position turns to pain at any point you let me know.” He already has some difficult tasks planned for Dean, so he figures this might be a good warm up.

He runs his hands over Dean’s pebbling skin, crouching down to work his way up his legs and over his hips. He walks a slow circle around Dean, truly looking him over for bruising or any stiffness to his stance. He hums happily in approval and enjoys the way the sound makes Dean’s shoulders relax just a little. Once satisfied he begins to work the harness onto him. He gets the thigh straps on, then the hips and connects it to the shoulder harness, cinching everything tight. He adds the cuffs to Deans biceps and wrists but leaves him un-tethered for now.

Dean was an exceptionally good boy, and Castiel was planning to use his hand for this but decides he’s earned a reward. He slowly kneels down at Dean’s feet and lets a puff of air ghost over Dean’s half hard cock. He hears the little gasp above him and Dean goes stock still. He leans forward and sucks Dean’s cock into his mouth, holding him loosely and swirling his tongue on the soft, freshly cleaned skin. Dean huffs above him but keeps his position as Castiel teases him till he’s good and hard before popping off.

Standing up, he looks in Dean’s eyes to see them lust blown and his lip bright pink from where he’s been biting it. He leans in and captures that sinful mouth in a kiss while his hands roll on the cock ring, settling it at the base of Dean’s cock. He pulls back from the kiss and admires his work. Dean looks stunning all hard, muscles flexing against the leather harness.

“Come kneel for dinner, my good boy,” he instructs, pointing at the pillow. Dean looks a mixture of relieved at getting to lower his arms and disappointed at not getting to play more.

Castiel feeds them both from his large plate of food, offering some food by fork to Dean and some by hand. He doesn’t miss how Dean keeps trying to tempt him, sucking his fingers and flashing his tongue more than is strictly necessary. Castiel won’t crack though—no matter how tempting he is, he wants Dean taken care off before they continue their play.

As he finishes up putting dishes in the sink he feels fully settled in his dom persona. All his attention is laser focused on his sub and meeting his needs and desires. “Come with me, my good boy,” he hums happily, holding out his hand. He knows he’s spent a lot of the day holding this man’s hand but he doesn't seem to mind and there's a certain intimacy to the small touch.

He leads his sub up the stairs to the bedroom and rolls the quilt and flat sheet down to the bottom of the mattress. “Lay down for me, right in the middle there,” he directs. Dean gives a soft “yes sir” as he climbs on the bed and positions himself. Castiel places a few pillows behind his head to make sure he is propped up.

Now the real fun. He grins as he pulls two lengths of rope from the trunk and stalks toward Dean. The man's chest is rising and falling faster now and his long lashes blink up him in curiosity. He can tell that Dean is already starting to sink into subspace, something he does much quicker and smoother the longer they play together. He starts out simple enough, binding Dean’s wrists above his head to the headboard. He does the same to his ankles, pressing a kiss to each before tying them, outspread about shoulder width apart. The next part is a bit tricky but he ties rope to the chest and hip rings on the left side of the harness. Snakes two ropes under the bed and grabs the other end to tie the opposite to the harness on the right. He effectively pins Dean’s torso down to the bed. He can’t thrust his hips, and can’t lean forward. His legs and arms have just a little slack to tug on them, but he is otherwise fully at Castiel’s mercy.

“I love you like this, all spread out for me like a damn meal,” Castiel hums happily, his hands trailing over Dean's skin. “Color, Dean?” he asks, cupping his sub’s face and watching for any sign of distress.

“Green, Sir, I’m good, sir,” he replies easily and his words are a bit drawn out. He’s sinking faster now into subspace and they’ve barely started.

“So gorgeous, so good for me. Now I need you to wait here for me.” He leans forward, planting a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, smiling when Dean tries to lean up to chase after him. “I won’t be far, I will be able to hear you call, alright?” Dean nods dreamily and Castiel gives him one more kiss before he hurries to the bathroom.

He keeps the bathroom door open and continuously checks on Dean while he takes a hurried shower of his own. He grabs the lube from the cabinet and wastes little time prepping himself. He used to be able to bottom without any prep, but it’s been a few years now and he wants it to be a tight but not painful burn. He feels looser and more relaxed in a few minutes and good and slick as he pads back out to the bedroom naked. The main light in the room is off and he leaves the bathroom door cracked so let in just enough light to see.

“Mmmm Sir?” Dean slurs a little and Cas can see his hips straining to hump up into the air and failing, his hard cock bobbing and weeping at the tip. He looks positively sinful.

“Right here my good boy, are you ready for your reward?”

“Y-yes Sir,” he nods vigorously as the only body part he can move freely.

“God, you're perfect like this, letting go for me. I just want to ruin you,” he hums, feeling his cock filling out himself as he climbs up on the bed with his sub.

“Please, please Sir,” Dean begs, a little whimper, and Castiel doesn’t even think he knows what he’s begging for.

“Going to use my good boy, aren’t I? Are you going to let me ride you, slide this beautiful cock up inside me?” Dean whines at his words and tugs on his wrist restraints. “Hush, now, be a good boy for me if you want to come in my ass,” he whispers, leaning down by Dean’s ear. His sub lets out another low, needy moan but keeps still this time. 

Castiel crawls up to straddle Dean, sliding back till he can feel the hard line of his erection bumping against his cheeks. He hums happily before he leans down and begins to kiss and bite at the skin trapped below him. He isn’t particular about where he puts his mouth, sometimes he kisses softly against Dean’s side, and other times he sinks his teeth in right by his nipple, making him keen softly. 

“Make all the noises you want, baby,” Castiel encourages as he continues to worship Dean’s body with his mouth. The skin tastes so soft and clean mixed with the occasion bit of leather and it’s all so dirty and sinful. Dean’s heavy breathing and tiny whimpers of need only make him harder, if that’s possible.

“Need, need, need,” Dean pants out, obviously struggling hard to find the words now and when Castiel looks up into his eyes he sees they are shiny with tears. He looks utterly and completely wrecked in the most beautiful way. Dean is completely broken down like this, reduced only to his most basic wants and needs.

“You're so good, Dean, amazing for me,” Castiel hums before he grabs the bottle of lube and slicks up Dean’s cock. “Ready, baby?” he asks softly and Dean nods vigorously.

“Please, oh god, please,” Dean begs again and it sounds shaky, strung out, and he can’t possibly deny him any longer. He raises himself up and uses one hand for balance on the bed and the other to hold Dean’s cock at his entrance.

“Holy shit!” Castiel chokes out as he slowly sinks down onto Dean. He’s big. Bigger than maybe Castiel anticipated, but not undoable. He breathes deep, pulling up a little and sinking back down a bit further. He does this a few times till he finally hits Dean’s hips below him.

He stares into Dean’s eyes then which are wide and lust blown staring back at him, mouth agape. “So-sooo tight,” Dean huffs out. “Oh god, it feels sssoooo good.” Dean tosses his head back and Castiel can’t help but smile lifting himself up and getting a rhythm going. He grabs onto the front of the harness and uses it to steady himself and he really begins to ride Dean. It takes a minute before he finds the right angle to press against his prostate and it feels glorious.

“Gonna come on your big cock. God, it's stuffing me full, Dean, you feel so good,” he babbles a bit, getting almost lost in the sensations. His other hand reaches up to Dean and sinks three fingers into his warm, wet mouth, just to feel those sinful lips. 

He pulls his wet hand back and uses it to stroke himself in time with his own rising and falling. He knows this is a reward for Dean but he thinks he’s getting just as much out of this. “Come for me Dean, come for me,” he tells him. He knows how intense an orgasm can be with a cock ring on and he thinks Dean is right on that edge.

Body slick with sweat, Dean whimpers and cries out, “Cas!” at the top of his lungs as he begins pulsing within Cas. He feels the warm, wet heat of it and sits hard on Dean’s lap as he strokes himself fast. With a small cry he feels his orgasm crest and suddenly he’s coming, painting Dean’s stomach and chest in his spend.

He feels a bit shaky, muscles strained, but he wastes little time rolling off Dean and beginning to untie him. He whispers soft praises to the man and leaves kisses all over Dean’s skin as he takes off the cock ring from his now soft cock, and begins undoing the rope and harness. He gets it all undone in record time and rubs over his skin checking for any irritation. Dean just hums happily, eyes closed and obviously still drifting deep in subspace. Castiel wishes he could always have Dean like this, so free and unencumbered.

He rubs his hands all over him in a gentle massage until Dean cracks an eye open, looking up at him. “Welcome back,” Castiel smiles down at him.

“That…that was incredible,” he hums sleepily, licking at his lips.

“I’m glad to hear it. Can you wake up enough to take a bath with me?” He knows Dean’s muscles could do with the warm soak and if he is honest his own could as well.

“Mmmm but bed.” Dean whines a little, stretching and Castiel chuckles.

“Come now, don’t be a brat, in the bath with you.” He puts a hand behind Dean’s back and helps him to sit up.

“Can’t we just sleep?” he asks, even as he moves to follow Cas.

“We could, but if you take a bath with me, I’ll let you come a second time if you can before the water gets cold?” he offers, reaching down to stroke Dean’s cock and feeling it valiantly twitch in his hand.

Dean sighs at the touch and bites at his lip. “Bath it is, then,” Dean answers him, leaning in to kiss Castiel softly on the lips. Castiel happily takes his very good boy to the bathroom and begins to run them a hot and soapy bath.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All!  
I have been a very busy bee, unfortunately I was busy with moving, not writing. Now that we are settled I finished the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy it, missed you all!  
Love,  
CB

_ “Horses are incredibly forgiving. They fill in places we’re not capable of filling ourselves.” - Buck Brannaman _

The sun beats down on his face as he leans back on the front steps of the porch and closes his eyes. Dean can already feel the sweat on his brow and it’s only nine in the morning. Eventually he hears an approaching rumble and looks up to see a large truck with Singer Salvage painted on the side, towing a flatbed trailer. He jumps up, rubbing his hands against his jeans and goes to greet his visitor.

Bobby jumps down from the truck and settles his old ball cap on his head before he sees Dean approaching. A wide smile breaks across the familiar face. “Damn it's good to see you, boy.”

Dean lets himself be pulled into a hug and feels the hard thump to his back that makes him smile. “Heya Bobby, I see you haven't changed.”

“Same old, same old. I was beginning to think your brother lied about you coming home. Too good to swing by and visit an old man?” Bobby could lay on the guilt better than any mother he’d ever heard of.

“Sorry Bobby, it's been a little rough these past few years.” It was a lame excuse and he knew it, but luckily Bobby seemed to be giving him a break and just nodded in agreement.

“So where’s she at? Letʼs see what we’re working with.”

Dean nods, happy for the change of subject though his stomach drops a little as he leads Bobby toward the back barn that serves as a garage. He honestly doesn’t know what to expect, being a bit too cowardly to go in and take off the tarp himself. He grabs the old wooden door and swings it open with a loud creaking sound that makes both men cringe.

He finds the light switch and flicks it on, getting his first look at the place in over a year. Sam had encouraged Dean to come out here and do something with the car several times, but he just didn’t have it in him. Now he’s surprised to see the tarp is basically clean and there's not even a layer of dust on it.

“Alright, well let's get this tarp off and see how she's doing under there.” Bobby nudges Dean's shoulder and he blinks a little before he moves to pull the cover off. Gleaming black metal greets him and he lets out a shaky breath at the sight of her. His beautiful 1967 Chevy Impala hardtop powered by a 502-cubic-inch big-block, sitting on a Hotchkis performance suspension. Even slightly crumpled and with broken glass he can see the car she used to be.

He walks toward the driver's side and runs his fingertips along the cool metal. Bobby was the one who towed the car from the accident scene while Dean and Sam had rushed to the hospital to check on their dad. John had been fine when they got there, a bit bruised and sore but otherwise his same gruff self. When he’d suffered a stroke just before being discharged it had shocked both the young Winchesters. He’d never really blamed the car for his dad's death, he knew it was just a fluke accident. He simply couldn’t look at her without thinking of his dad. Sam had told Bobby to put her in the barn for them and Dean hadn’t touched her since. By the look of the car Sam had though. She was impeccably clean, and Dean took note of the mouse traps he’d put out to try and protect the car.

“It’s fixable, but it's gonna take a while to find all the parts,” Bobby says, breaking the silence as he peers in at the car.

“You sure you don’t mind me using your place to do the work? I just don’t have the tools I need here.” Dean still feels like he’s asking a lot of his old family friend.

“Don’t be stupid, would I be here if I didn’t want to be?” Bobby rolls his eyes at him and Dean bites back a smile.

“Alright then, I’ll swing by Saturday and take care of my girl.” He gives the hood of the car an affectionate pat.

“I’ll look and see what parts I can get ordered for you, though I think I have a good amount out in the yard.” Bobby scratches his head, obviously mulling over the project.

They both manage to load the car up on the trailer and Dean waves as Bobby drives off back toward his salvage yard. Dean locks up the house and starts his walk to the farm. Castiel and Ellie knew he was planning to be late this morning so he doesn’t rush. His leg feels stiff but not sore this morning and he thinks he has the riding to thank for that. He never realized how physical riding was, how many muscles it pulled on till he actually did it. He’d always imagined you just sat up there and the horse did all the work.

He sees the familiar fence line come into view and Decaf out in the front field with Lou and two other geldings.

“Morning boys!” he hollers at the horses. Only Decaf lifts his head at the sound of his voice but is quick to return to his grass. He shakes his head and makes his way down the drive. He can see dust kicking up from the arena and wonders who is riding.

“Hey, lazy bones, grab a wheelbarrow already. The hill paddocks need a cleaning,” Ellie calls to him as she tosses down a few bales of hay from the loft.

“You knew I was gonna be in late today,” he grumbles while going to grab the pitchfork.

“No excuses, move your ass, Winchester,” she laughs and tosses down the next bale.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah hold your horses.” He gives her a mock scowl before he wheels his way out to the paddocks.

He can see Castiel now riding in the arena, his boyfriend seated atop the large bay appendix quarter horse, Maco. He blinks a few times till he realizes Castiel is riding in an English saddle and he’s wearing tight tan pants and tall black boots. Even from a distance he can see the outline of his thigh muscles and it makes his mouth water.

He cleans paddocks as quickly as he can, catching glances at Castiel as he rides around the arena, making it look effortless. He misses a few tosses into the wheelbarrow, distracted by the way the pants cling to Castiel's ass as he trots away from him. Dean somehow manages to finish his task and makes it down to the arena in time to see Castiel riding Rowena’s horse, the large Fresian Oscar.

He leans on the fence and just studies the pair as they move about the arena. Dean is getting to know the horses better and this one is a handful. Castiel is perfectly still in the saddle, hands wide and low, talking to the horse in a soothing rumble. Oscar snorts, pulling at the bit and swishing his tail.

“Easy there,” Castiel cooes and holds firm as the horse begins to settle a bit. He eventually breaks to a walk and lets the rein out so the horse can stretch. “Hello, Dean,” Castiel calls, riding over to him.

“Nice pants.” Dean wiggles his eyebrows at his boyfriend with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“They’re called breeches, and one of the many reasons I prefer western riding.” Castiel rolls his eyes but can’t keep the small smile off his face.

“Gonna have to disagree with you on this one boss,” Dean turns his head to admire the tight lines of Castiel’s legs.

“How did it go this morning with your project?” Castiel changes the question and moves Oscar into a walk. Dean slips through the fence and walks alongside the horse.

“It was good, Bobby picked up the Impala and brought her back to his place. He said he was gonna start trying to get me parts for her.” Dean was kinda itching to get started now that he had made his mind up about it. “Think I owe my little brother a thank you, he’s been keeping the car clean and safe for me all this time. She was in better shape than I thought she would be. I don’t know why he did that, I mean I told him I wasn’t gonna touch it ever again.”

Castiel gives Dean one of his knowing grins. “I think your brother knows you pretty well, and he had faith that someday you were gonna want that car back. Your brother doesn’t always seem to hit things on the mark but I think he made a good call on this one.”

Dean nods, he can’t argue that. He and Sam can be such polar opposites sometimes that he can forget that no one knows him better than Sam does. His brother is the only one that remembers how much that car meant to their family, all the road trips and moving around. That car felt more like home than any house they’d ever lived in.

“I do have some bad news, though,” Castiel interrupts his thoughts.

“What's up?” He frowns up at Cas squinting at the bright sun.

“They moved the auction back three weeks so it's going to be a bit longer till we can get Cash back.”

“You're kidding!” Dean exclaims and Oscar startles a little till Cas calms him with a pat to the shoulder. “Sorry,” Dean mumbles.

“It's alright, though if Oscar tosses me on my ass Rowena will never let me hear the end of it.” Castiel tries for a smile but Dean can’t seem to shake the scowl now.

“Why did they push it?”

“I don’t know, I think the owner is on an extended vacation. Either way I did a drive by to the farm where he’s being boarded and he looks just fine,” Castiel adds and that does make the knot in Dean’s stomach ease a little.

“That's good at least.” He scuffs at the ground with his foot, thinking how much he misses Cash. He eventually has to head back to the barn to finish his chores. Ellie has a few afternoon lessons and the farm is busy with riders and the farrier coming to shoe and trim the horses as well. He’s fairly tired by the time he glances up to see Sam’s car coming down the drive.

He stands in the drive, wiping the sweat from his face and tosses a hand up in greeting. Sam slips out of the car, a wide smile on his face. He’s changed from his scrubs to a pair of jeans and white tee and Dean notices his hair is carefully brushed back. He doesn’t think his brother is here to see him.

“Hey there princess, you got a date?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Sam rolls his eyes but the smile doesn’t leave his face.

“We have a date, Ellie is cooking barbecue tonight for you, me and Cas,” Sam glances around looking for the other two people in question.

“Uh that's news to me,” he replies, wondering why all the secrecy.

“Yeah, Ellie thought you and Cas might continue to be hermits at Castiel’s place, come up with some lame excuse not to come, so I think she was just planning on telling you guys last minute.” Sam just shrugs like he had no part in this.

Before he can reply Ellie and Cas are walking in from the paddock leading Lou and Decaf in.

“Hello Sam,” Castiel greets warmly.

“Heya Cas… Ellie,” he gives a shyer smile to Ellie. He’s really happy to see his brother putting himself out there again. Part of him wondered if he’d ever give dating another shot after losing Jess. “Nice pants Cas,” Sam chuckles.

“Hot as fuck is the word your looking for,” Dean adds.

Castiel just rolls his eyes at both of them and plants a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “They are riding breeches.”

“Hot as fuck riding breeches,” Dean adds and gets a smack to his shoulder for his trouble. “Apparently we have dinner plans,” Dean announces and watches as Castiel’s brows lift in question.

“Barbecue at my place in an hour,” Ellie nods like that's final and throws Sam a wink before heading into the barn.

“I don’t remember agreeing to dinner,” Castiel adds, shooting a concerned glance at Dean.

“You didn’t, because I’m not asking, I’m telling, so you guys better go shower,” she nods toward the house as she starts dumping grain buckets. “Sam can help me finish up here,” she adds as Castiel and Dean stare at each other. He can’t tell if Cas is okay with this but then again Cas is likely wondering the same thing.

“Can’t say no to a barbecue, or bossy barn managers,” Dean gives Cas a smile and hopes that was the right response. Castiel visibly relaxes, returning the smile. 

“Well, let's go get cleaned up then,” Castiel replies smoothly and heads to the house with Dean on his heels.

“_ Just _ clean up you guys, I’m not saving you any if you're late cause you're screwing around… or screwing each other,” Ellie teases, making Dean's cheeks flush an embarrassing red.

“Best behavior, Ellie, we’ll save the screwing for after dinner,” Castiel adds in such a deadpan it makes Dean’s jaw drop.

“Eww! Come on, that's my brother. I’m gonna need brain bleach.” Sam fake gags and Dean punches his brother's arm before he can jump back. Sam just laughs at him with a broad smile on his face.

“Come on, Cas.” Dean grabs Castiel’s arm now dragging him toward the house while his boyfriend stifles a laugh. “You're a punk, you know that,” he whispers to Cas when he's sure they are out of ear shot.

“I thought you were the brat in this relationship?” Castiel’s eyes twinkle with mirth and he can’t keep up the annoyed facade anymore.

“Damn straight I am,” he nods and marches into the house. 

They shower quickly and manage not to get each other too riled up before they head over to Ellie’s cottage on the back of the property. Dean is a little sad to see the breeches get changed out for jeans but Cas is still sexy as hell regardless. Dean can smell the barbecue before he comes around back to find Sam standing at the grill.

“What smells so good?” Dean sniffs peering around his brother's over-sized shoulders.

“Ribs. Ellie’s been marinating them in some family recipe.” Sam opens the grill a little to let Dean peek without letting out too much heat.

“You guys want a beer?” Ellie asks, coming out of the house obviously having showered herself and wearing clean jeans and a low cut tee. Dean can’t help but think how grateful he is to have found her as a friend. He probably doesn’t appreciate just how much Ellie has done for him. Giving him the job with no experience, never pushing him to talk when he didn’t want to, but always being around to listen. Just being a soothing presence during some of his rockiest times. He hit the jackpot with more than just Cas by coming to Stowaway Farm.

“Hey, Earth to Dean.” Ellie waves a hand in front of him and laughs as he snaps out of his thoughts. “Beer, space cadet?”

“Thanks Elle.” He takes the bottle of El Sol from her, popping off the cap with his ring and doing the same for Cas before handing him his drink.

They chat and Dean hovers over Sam’s shoulder, back seat grilling for him. Finally Sam gets annoyed enough to hand over the tongs to Dean and he takes over, happily turning and flipping the ribs. Castiel and Ellie fill Sam in on the upcoming auction and their plans to buy back Cash. 

The sun is almost down by the time they sit to eat and Ellie flicks on her string lights. “These are very hipster, Ellie,” Dean chuckles, pointing at the bulb lights.

“I like them,” Sam adds quickly.

“Suck up,” Dean elbows his brother who huffs and scowls at him. Sam shoves back at Dean who jabs him in the side in retaliation and a scuffle nearly breaks out with Dean getting Sam in a headlock before Castiel lets out a loud whistle and fixes the Winchesters a look that makes both of them freeze.

“If you two insist on killing each other can you do so after dinner?” Castiel raises an expectant brow and both Sam and Dean mumble apologies and sit back down. Dean gives Sam a small wink and grin feeling his heart lighten at the familiar sibling ribbing.

Everyone quickly digs into their food and he has to admit it's damn good. He has a fleeting moment where he thinks of Benny and how much he’d love a good barbecue like this. Maybe that's a bridge he should try and mend soon. He gets a bit lost in thought till Cas brings him back into the conversation with stories of Lou and his antics.

“Oh yeah, one time I was cleaning the paddock and I hear this loud sound behind me, and I turn to see Lou with both front feet standing in the wheelbarrow!” Ellie laughs, shaking her head before she goes on. “He looked like a circus horse or something.”

“What did you do?” Sam asks.

“I yelled at him to get down, which he did, knocking the whole wheelbarrow over in the process. I thought he scared himself good with the bang but no joke, twenty minutes later I turn my back and he’s doing it again!”

They all bust up laughing at the image of Lou, a thousand pound quarter horse, trying to climb inside a wheelbarrow. Castiel tells the story of Lou chasing him around the paddock with a tree branch in his mouth. Dean joins in with his own telling of his fall in the mud from the same equine terror. The quiet night is filled with the sounds of their laughter and talking and Dean lets the calm wash over him. He can sense Sam watching him toward the end of the night a stupid happy smile on his face. Ellie ends up bringing some dishes inside with Castiel’s help, leaving Dean alone with his brother.

“Saw the barn was empty. Bobby made it over?” Sam asks as he hands Dean a fresh beer from the cooler Ellie brought out.

“Yeah, he took her over to his place and is gonna start hunting down parts for me.” Dean spins his bottle in his hands and picks at the label. “Someone’s been taking care of her. No mice in the engine, not even dust on her.”

“Huh,” is all Sam says in reply before taking a swig.

“Yeah, someone else must really care about that car,” Dean adds eyeing his brother now.

“Maybe they care about the car owner more. Wanted it to be ready for them,” Sam shrugs and glances over at Dean.

“Thanks, Sammy,” he mumbles out around his beer.

“No thanks needed, just doing what you taught me,” Sam sees the question on his face and adds, “taking care of family.”

Dean can’t help but flush a little at that. He isn’t really comfortable with the touchy feely conversations. He figures he does owe his brother a little real conversation though, considering he’s gone months with nothing but angry grunts and blank stares.

“You and Ellie seem to be hitting it off,” he changes the subject to a safer territory.

“She’s really great, smart and funny and gorgeous. I just haven’t done this whole... _ dating _thing in years, you know?” Sam smiles to himself just talking about her which tells Dean all he needs to know. “Something about her, it just…” Sam glances toward the back door to check they are alone. “She kinda feels like home. Sounds pretty stupid, huh?”

Dean doesn’t bother trying to hide his own smile, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Cas takes that moment to walk outside, Ellie following, and gives Dean a warm smile that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. “I know exactly what you mean, Sammy,” Dean whispers back to Sam and they clink beer bottles ignoring the questioning looks from Cas and Ellie. Eventually a buzzed Cas and Dean make their way to the big house and leave Sam and Ellie making heart eyes at each other under the string lights.

“Have any more questions for me before our next session?” Dr. Knight asks, checking his watch for the time.

Dean wracks his brain to see if there's anything he forgot. It's his third visit with Dr. Knight and on the next visit they are doing their first session of EMDR therapy. He’s sorta terrified and excited in equal measure. He’s been warring with the guilt hard the past few weeks. So many of these memories are sitting in the forefront of his mind.

“I can’t really think of anything,” he shrugs, hating how insecure he sounds even to himself.

“You know we can wait to start that treatment till you're ready, Dean. This moves at your speed and no one else's.” The doctor leans back and gives him that look that says he sees right through him.

“I’m ready, I want to do it.” He thinks of waking Cas up with a nightmare just last night. Drenched in sweat and only vague impressions of the dream, it had taken hours for him to get back to sleep. He was tired of feeling controlled by his memories. He wanted that control back.

“Alright then. Just remember that you can change your mind anytime.”

He nods at that, but once he’s made a decision like this he isn’t the kind of person to waver on it. He needs to just make the decision and stop thinking about it. He says goodbye to the doctor and drives himself home in the truck he borrowed from Cas. His mind is crowded with thoughts of the past, as if these old memories know it's almost time to come out and haunt him. He thinks of Benny, of his squad, of Cash, even of Jess. He thinks of all the people he has let down, those dead and those still around. By the time he reaches Castiel’s house he’s in a foul mood.

Cas is still down at the barn teaching a group lesson with Ellie. Dean just sneaks off to the house and takes a long shower to try and soothe himself. It only half works so he decides to try and surprise Cas by cooking dinner, maybe keeping his hands moving will help. He strips down folding his clothes and puts on an apron over his naked body. If he’s cooking he’s doing it as Castiel’s sub. That doesn’t mean he’s going to let his naked junk next to the stove-top without some protection.

He digs around and decides to try and make a risotto since Cas keeps talking about trying some new Italian restaurant. Problem is he doesn’t know how to make risotto. He doesn’t have wine so he wonders if any alcohol would work. He uses some vodka and browns the rice but it doesn’t smell too good. He cooks the onions since who has shallots on hand? And then adds in the bacon because apparently Cas doesn’t have pancetta on hand either. He watches the YouTube video a few times and stirs and adds the chicken stock to rice every few minutes. He stares off out the window actively trying not to think of all the things he needs to talk about in his next therapy session.

“Is something burning?” Dean jumps at the sound of Castiel’s voice and looks at the pan to see the risotto dry and burning on the bottom of the pan.

“Shit!” he curses, adding in a big ladle of broth that splashes over the edge of the pan and hurries to stir the rice and salvage the meal.

He can feel Castiel approach him from behind and the warm calloused skin of his dom’s hand resting on his bare back. He looks down at his mess of a meal and scowls at it. “It's ruined,” he declares flipping off the heat to the burner and tossing the spoon in the sink with a clatter.

“I might be able to help, can I see?” Castiel asks, moving next to Dean to look in the pan. “Hmm, maybe tonight we order out.”

“I fucked it up, I was trying to do something nice for you and I can’t even do that,” Dean growls crossing his arms and feeling completely useless and exposed and raw. “I suck Cas, I can’t even do a simple recipe. You're dating an idiot, you know that? I don’t even know why you keep me around,” he practically shouts at Cas and then feels immediately like the asshole he is.

Castiel’s hand shoots out so fast he hardly even registers it before he feels fingers grip around his throat. Castiel places his other hand over Dean’s mouth effectively silencing him and steps up into his space. Standing so close their noses nearly touch, he feels his heart hammering in his chest. “Enough,” Castiel’s voice is calm yet hard as steel. “Take off the apron, and go kneel in the living room while I decide your punishment for breaking the rules.”

Dean tries to protest but Castiel's hands only clamp tighter in warning and he goes quiet. He swallow, feeling Castiel’s hand against his throat sends a shiver through him. “The only words I want from you are either _ Yes Sir _ or your safe word. Now go.”

Castiel releases him, taking a step back and it feels like all the air with him. Dean fucked up, big time. Now he can’t even be a good sub. He fights down the rotten feeling in his chest and nods, “Yes sir,” before he moves to the living room to wait, as instructed.

He removes his apron and kneels on the carpet, legs slightly spread, arms clasped behind his back and tips his head down. He tries to steady his breathing and just focus on the sound of Castiel moving in the kitchen. He knows his dom can see him, part of him knows that he is keeping an eye on Dean looking for signs of distress. He breathes a little easier knowing Cas isn’t far.

He tells himself he can take whatever Cas dishes out, that he deserves it and he can handle it. He needs to just suck it up and deal with what Cas decides. He settles a little more as he realizes he doesn’t have to do more than follow his dom's orders. There is still this sickening rotten feeling in his chest, but he has a sense of resignation to his fate. He wonders if Cas will flog him or whip him. He’d deserve it, deserve to hurt and not in the fun way. Dean deserved a lot worse than whatever his dom was going to do.

He stiffens when he hears approaching footsteps. A hand cards through his hair and grips it tight, tilting his head back to stare up at his dom. Castiel’s blue eyes are sharp and assessing, he looks…disappointed. That realization makes Dean want to throw himself at his feet and beg for forgiveness. It takes all his willpower to stay absolutely still.

“Can you tell me what rule you broke?” Castiel asks calmly, too calmly for how Dean’s heart is racing.

“I—” Dean clears his throat, “I insulted myself, sir,” Dean answers. _ I deserved it though, _ he thinks defiantly.

“Correct, you did so several times, in fact. I do not appreciate you speaking about my sub, my boyfriend, my lover this way.” Castiel’s face is hard as ice. “Now will you accept my punishment, so that you can be forgiven?”

“Yes sir,” he replies and winces when he tries to nod his head that Castiel still has a firm grip on.

“Stand,” Castiel lets him go and waits for him to stand, offering a hand that Dean doesn’t use. “Hands out in front, elbows bent.” He watches as Castiel goes to his bookshelf and pulls out a few hardback books. He places them on Dean’s outstretched arms. They are heavy but not too bad. Lighter than a bale of hay or water bucket. Castiel then grabs his upper arm and leads him to the corner of the room positioning Dean with his nose facing the wall and books in his arms. He feels a chill with his back to the room and an embarrassed flush creeps up his body.

“Really? Time out in the corner?” Dean scoffs and looks over at Castiel’s hard glare and tacks on, “Sir.”

“Keep giving me that attitude and I’ll increase your time,” Castiel all but growls into his ear and he feels well chastened, nodding quickly. “You will stand here in this corner, holding these books just like this, arms at a right angle, and do not lock your knees. I have a timer,” Castiel holds up an egg timer from the kitchen. “I want you to stay here and think about what you’ve done wrong. When this timer goes off, you are completely forgiven. Clean slate, do you understand?”

“Yes Sir,” Dean answers his own voice sounding so small now he almost doesn’t recognize it.

“Safeword if you need to, otherwise do not move or speak. Ten minutes start now.” Castiel twists the timer and walks away.

He can do this. How hard can it be to stand in a corner? Dean feels his muscles begin to ache a little. The books aren’t heavy but holding them out that way is hard. He thinks about how he lost it in the kitchen. He thinks about yelling at Cas and calling himself all names. He knew how much Cas hated that. He just wants to be Castiel’s good boy again, that's when everything made sense.

As the minutes pass they feel endless, and while logically he knows Cas is right behind him, he feels incredibly alone. He feels sorry, so sorry for all he’s done wrong in his life. A string of apologies fly through his head.

_ I’m sorry for not being there for you, Sammy, for not saving your girl, and not being around to take better care of you after. _

_ I’m sorry, Benny, for pushing you away, for blaming you for deaths that aren’t on you. _

_ I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Kevin, you were just a kid and I should have protected you. _

_ I’m sorry, Cas, that you are stuck with this broken man. _

_ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry! _

His body trembles with the strain on his muscles and he feels the silent tears dripping down his cheeks. The buzzer finally goes off and he drags in a ragged breath letting out a sob he can’t begin to hold back. Castiel is right there, taking the books from him, and pulls Dean into his arms. Dean holds him back in a death grip, tears and apologies streaming out of him. Castiel hushes him, sitting them on the couch with Dean straddling his lap.

“I’m s-so sorry, so sorry, please forgive me,” Dean begs and Castiel just shushes him and rubs his back, placing kisses on his dampened cheeks.

“You’re forgiven, Dean, it's all forgiven, my good boy. You did such a good job, I am so proud of you.” Castiel praises him and kisses him and every touch, every kiss feels like a benediction, like it's taking some heavy weight away and he feels lightness settle deep within him. “All is forgiven, sweetheart, you’re good, you’re so good, Dean.” Dean thinks he might float away right off the couch if Castiel wasn’t holding him so tightly. For as miserable as he felt a moment ago now all he feels is…relief.

Dean's tears slow and his body feels limp and sore but he nuzzles his nose against Castiel’s throat and just lets the feeling of acceptance wash over him.

“Feeling a little better?” Castiel asks in a soft voice, running a hand over Dean’s hair.

“Yes sir,” he replies softly, feeling almost as if he’s in a strange version of subspace.

“You know why I have that rule. It hurts me to hear you talk that way, do you understand?” Castiel forces Dean to lean back and meet his eyes.

Dean searches that gaze for a minute. He sees so many things when he looks there. Compassion, concern, trust, adoration…and love. Castiel gets so mad when he says those things about himself because he loves him. It’s so plain as day as he can’t believe he never saw it before.

“You love me,” he blurts out, not a question, just a statement of fact.

Castiel’s body goes stock still as his blue eyes widen a moment and Dean fears he guessed wrong. He begins to try and pull away but his doms grip is too strong.

“Dean, be still,” he commands and Dean freezes on the spot. Castiel grips his chin gently meeting his eyes again, “I have loved you for a long time, Dean. I am hopelessly in love with you. Though I had hoped I would get to tell you before you told you.”

Dean feels a grin break across his face and laughs out loud. Castiel gives him a perplexed look which only makes him laugh harder. “I’m sorry I ruined it for you. But I’m not sorry you love me.”

Castiel’s lips quirk in a smile at him and he leans up to kiss him. Dean hums happily into the kiss. “I love you too, Cas,” he answers back. He thought saying those words to someone for the first time would be terrifying, yet he’s never felt safer or more sure of anything in his life. They sit in silence for a while just holding each other, kissing lightly and softly till the doorbell rings, making both of them jump.

“Pizza,” Castiel answers, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose before he places him on the couch, running to grab the door. Dean is sure to stay out of sight and his mouth waters at the smell quickly filling the room. Castiel puts the pizza boxes on the coffee table and puts a pillow on the floor pointing to it for Dean. He happily sinks down on it leaning his back against the couch. They eat their pizza in silence, Dean leaning up against Castiel’s leg, letting the contact comfort him.

“Dean, do you want a scene tonight, or do you want it to be just you and I?” Castiel asks after they finish eating. Dean thinks about it carefully.

“Is just you and me okay?”

Castiel smiles and reaches out a hand to him. “Of course it is, want to come help me shower?”

Dean licks his lips and nods, giving Castiel’s body a hungry once-over. Castiel just laughs and leads the way. They race up the stairs and Castiel strips out of his clothes and they use every last drop of hot water worshiping each other's bodies. Dean doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have the love of a man like Cas but he thinks it just might be the thing that saves him.


End file.
